All These Places Feel Like Home
by arainymonday
Summary: When Burt decides to run for Congress, Blaine knows he has to be involved. That one decision will change all his best laid plans and put him on a path to unexpected colleges, law school, Capitol Hill, and back to Kurt. Five times Burt becoming a Congressman changed Kurt and Blaine's relationship and one time Kurt and Blaine's relationship changed Burt.
1. Autumn 2011

**Title: **All These Places Feel Like Home**  
Rating:** R**  
Warnings: **language, sexual scenes  
**Pairings: **Klaine  
**Spoilers:** through season 3  
**Betas:** aubrundammit & nachochang  
**Author's Note:** This is an old story I found rolling around my hard drive that I'm posting now. It takes into account most, but not all, of season three canon. At the time I wrote it, I found a Klaine breakup/reunion so ridiculous I filed this away as a lost cause. Then I saw an even more ridiculous scenario in Season 4 and decided to find this story again.

The title comes from the Snow Patrol song "Chocolate." If you haven't heard that song, I encourage you to check out the lyrics. Not only do they perfectly describe this story, but it's an amazing, inspiring song about finding your adult self.

* * *

**Autumn 2011**

Blaine had always had an interest in politics. As a boy scout, he'd learned it was his civic duty to be an engaged member of his community. As a child observer, he'd listened to his parents' preach-to-the-choir conversations about the issues at the dinner table. When Cooper turned eighteen, he'd taken Blaine into the polling booth and shown him all the fancy buttons he could push one day. It hadn't escaped his notice as he'd grown up how he fit into the political scene. He'd been a victim of bullying and a hate crime; he'd transferred from the curriculum of an abysmal public school to an elite private school and back again. He didn't like confrontation much, but he initiated the same preach-to-the-choir political conversations he'd heard at the dinner table with anyone he thought might agree.

So when Burt Hummel decided to run for Congress, Blaine knew he had to be part of the campaign.

He showed up on the first day the campaign staff – meaning the Hudson-Hummels and Mr. Schue – got together in the Hummels' kitchen to discuss strategy with the Ohio Election Handbook tucked under his arm, wearing his most patriotic bowtie (red, white, and blue striped), and balancing a plate of buckeyes on his palms. The Hummels, Finn, and Mr. Schue gazed at him curiously from around the kitchen table, for some reason not expecting him to attend. He beamed brightly at them, and in his most chipper voice, asked:

"Who's ready to send a good man to Washington?"

His infectious optimism filtered around the room as smiles – and a faint oh-shucks blush from Burt. Kurt climbed out of his chair, took the buckeyes from Blaine with a shake of his head, and pulled him into a kiss a little too steamy for a family setting, but Blaine wasn't in the business of complaining when Kurt kissed him.

"You are such a dork," Kurt laughed, gesturing with the plate of buckeyes and tweaking Blaine's patriotic bowtie. "But I love you."

The words, spoken so casually in front of his family and their teacher, put a flutter in Blaine's chest. He darted forward for one more quick kiss, just because he could in the safety of this house with these people. Carole pulled up another chair around the table, and after some maneuvering to squish in, Blaine joined the ragtag amateur campaign staff that would get Burt Hummel elected. He took great pride in sitting around the table with people he loved and respected, and also that they devoured the chocolate covered peanut butter balls he'd spent hours making after school.

They didn't have much knowledge to go on in the early days. None of them had ever been involved in a political campaign before, unless they counted obsessive viewing of _The West Wing_ – one of Blaine's all-time favorite shows – which he really didn't think counted. Yet there were some key similarities between Burt Hummel and the leaders viewers loved to love.

"Look. I'm just going to say what I believe. The voters either like it or they don't. I'm not running for office because it's my dream or because it's in my blood. I might end up with egg on my face, but I'm all right with that. At least I'll have stood up and said I don't think any of the other candidates can do what's best for this district. I'd rather be that guy than the one who does it from my armchair in front of the television on election night."

The room went silent as the familial campaign staff exchanged grins and glances. Mr. Schue stood up from where he'd been leaning over the table with his head hanging. He nodded sincerely.

"Burt, I think we just found your stump speech. Let's outline your platform and get to writing."

He grabbed a marker and hauled out the whiteboard tucked into the corner of the room for the past week. He erased the 'to do' list – mainly things to research about elections – and began taking notes on Burt's thoughts. Two hours later, and an emergency phone call to Jimmy John's when they realized it was eight o'clock and they hadn't had dinner yet, the key points of Burt Hummel's Congressional campaign had been hammered out. They were exhausted from arguing, debating, rewording, brainstorming, but also keyed up and ready to push through the night.

"Blaine, honey, you probably need to get home," Carole said, patting his shoulder.

"No way. My curfew isn't until eleven."

Blaine shuffled around the papers where he'd jotted down his notes whenever an idea occurred to him. He had blocked off a section of his biology notes.

"Now that we have a message in a form voters can understand, we should make campaign materials like lawn signs and buttons and posters. Then we need to get volunteers to make phone calls and go door-to-door telling everyone how great you are, Mr. Hummel."

Amusement met his pronouncement. He thought it was at his idea. He flushed, but rushed to defend his plan with as much passion in his voice as when he'd first discussed marriage equality with Kurt. He _believed_ in Burt, and everyone else needed to also.

"We need a grassroots campaign to win the election, and the only way to get that is to go out into the community and convince people one-by-one that you're the best man for the job."

"Honey." Kurt caught his wildly gesticulating hand in mid-air and flashed him a fond look. "We all agreed that's one part of the campaign strategy. Why don't you and I work on some designs for those materials while the adults contact WOHN and talk to them about campaign law?"

All the way up to Kurt's room where he kept his art supplies, Blaine chattered about finding a bigger campaign headquarters with multiple phone lines, whether mailers or personal conversations were better, permits for a rally of some kind – everything he'd read about on the blogs he'd been following obsessively for a week.

They lost Finn somewhere on the stairs, which had Blaine spinning around in confused circles until Kurt pulled him inside his bedroom. The lean, firm length of Kurt's body pinned him to the back of the door, and he had a mouthful of Kurt's roving tongue before he'd registered they hadn't lost Finn at all; he'd been directed to get lost. Kurt's hands violated their anti-south-of-the-equator rule and squeezed his ass while he ducked his head to nip at Blaine's jaw.

"God, it's so hot when you assert yourself," he mumbled against Blaine's skin. "You get so passionate you forget to be self-conscious. It was like watching you perform down there. It turns me on so much."

Blaine's brain picked that moment to shut off entirely, and he couldn't be sorry later that they didn't get any poster designs done because he got to roll around Kurt's bed and make out for an hour until Finn – a really, really awesome brother even if he wasn't a very good friend – sounded the alarm that parents were coming upstairs so that they had enough time to separate, straighten their clothes, and smooth down Kurt's sheets. They couldn't hide their kiss-bruised lips, flushed cheeks, and heavy breathing, but they could at least cross their legs to hide their boners.

"I'm going on WOHN after Sue's corner tomorrow night," Burt announced. "Yes, Kurt, you can pick out my shirt, but try to make it say 'blue collar.' Also, I have veto power."

The thing Blaine loved most about Burt was that he'd didn't point out the obvious – that they had definitely not been making campaign posters – or side-eye and pretend like he had to protect anyone's virtue. His son made out with a boy frequently, and that was totally okay with Burt. God, he really, really, _really _freaking needed to be a Congressman.

"Watch the clock," Burt advised, before he left. "I don't want my most enthusiastic supporter to get grounded."

o o o

They had _West Side Story_ rehearsals to balance with schoolwork and the campaign, and also Kurt's campaign for class President. For once, Blaine found a reason to appreciate McKinley's lower academic standards. He could finish all of his homework in study hall at the end of the day, leaving his evenings free for Broadway and Beltway.

Of course, there was the downside of having very little time alone with Kurt, but they shortly found a remedy for that.

Mr. Schue had found an empty office building in town to use as headquarters, and after hearing Burt's campaign promises, the owner knocked half off the rent and promised his vote. If Kurt and Blaine weren't in the auditorium (and Finn when he wasn't on the football field), they were at the new headquarters setting up tables, hooking up phones, receiving boxes of flyers, mailers, posters, signs, buttons, shirts, bumper stickers, and magnets all with the "Hummel for Congress" logo emblazed on them.

The new headquarters had several rooms that locked from the inside, and if the Hummels and Mr. Schue weren't there, Kurt had the only other key.

"W-We should probably get back out there," Blaine panted. His head fell back against the door as Kurt bit down and sucked on the skin over his clavicle.

They had recruited a small but dedicated group of volunteers after Burt's WOHN address to the Congressional district. He'd been invited to more and more rallies, mixers, and events since then, leaving Mr. Schue behind in Lima to manage (and Kurt to co-manage) the operations. Mr. Schue mostly dealt with the press, though, and had handed over coordinating volunteers to Kurt and Blaine. They were only teenagers, but mature and responsible teenagers when they weren't making out in dark rooms when they were meant to be working.

"What we should probably do is have a date night." Kurt pulled back and gazed through the half-light seriously. "We're not even a week away from _West Side Story_, and I know that means Rachel gets you more than I do right now, but I miss us going out and talking. Don't get me wrong. I love steamy make out sessions in semi-public places, but I feel like we've let ourselves get so busy that this is all we have time for. I miss you."

Blaine let his head drop. "I miss you too. I've gotten so caught up in the elections and the musical. You're right. We should have a politics-and-showtunes-free date this week. Do you want to come over after glee on Thursday? We can really watch a movie or put on some music and dance in my room."

"I do like watching you dance."

That turned out to be one of their more interesting dates. With campaigns and _West Side Story_ banned for conversation, they ended up talking about ripping each other's clothes off and masturbation. Plus, Kurt wore a form fitting sweater dress that Blaine got to admire. More the "form fitting" part than the actual dress. If Blaine was being honest, he had a really hard time concentrating on anything but Kurt's form after Artie's indelicate admonishment about his virginity. Not that Blaine was going to act on that. God, what a stupid reason to have sex for the first time.

The next day was back to the campaigns and musical, but not quite as intensely, because Kurt and Blaine had talked about ripping each other's clothes off and masturbation. Just addressing the topic of sex – as in, not a please-leave-immediately-you-pervert or don't-touch-there conversation – had brought them a little closer, like two planetary bodies incapable of resisting the magnetic pull.

"Are you hitting that? Cause your boy is all kinds of dopey-eyed lately," Puck asked.

Kurt flashed him a stern glare and Blaine pretended not to hear as he went to the front of the room to address glee club. He knew he had to look lovesick because he felt lovesick all the time.

"I think Blaine has something to share with us," Mr. Schue said, turning the floor over.

"Thank you. Yes, I do. As you all know, there's going to be a special election to decide who will be the Representative from the Ohio 4th Congressional district. I'm organizing a table in the cafeteria to get everyone old enough signed up to vote. If you'd like to volunteer, we could use some more people to hand out voter registration packets. Just to be sure that everything is totally fair, I've asked a couple of the Cheerios not in New Directions or Troubletones to work at the table too. We'll be there all next week, if you're interested."

Kurt slipped his hand into the crook of Blaine's elbow when he sat back down. "Are you coming over after glee?"

Blaine shook his head regretfully. "I'm going to Dalton to give the Warblers _West Side Story_ tickets."

"Tell everyone I said hello. Don't let them steal you away from me."

Blaine pulled a face. "Never."

In hindsight, Blaine was an idiot to think him being lovesick would repel everyone the way he thought it should. Also, he was an idiot because the words that came to him so easily when discussing politics utterly failed him when he needed them most in his personal life.

For the next week, the only politics Blaine had time for was the voter registration booth during lunch. It was tech week for _West Side Story_, so the entire cast spent long hours trying to perfect the musical before opening night. What little time Blaine did have free with Kurt, he utterly, utterly botched and seriously wanted to never think about again because if he'd thought accidental flirting and accidental dates made him an idiot, then the Scandals debacle made him a cretin of an unimaginable degree.

"You seem a little stressed, Blaine," Artie observed. "I take it you didn't heed my advice?"

"You know what, Artie? Your advice is the reason I'm tense!" Blaine snapped. The student director arched his eyebrows, and Blaine huffed out a breath and pinched the bridge of his noise. "I'm sorry. That's not fair of me. I'm the one who screwed up."

"Nevertheless, I am your director, and it's my job to make sure you're at the top of your game out there. So, what's on your mind?"

Blaine considered ignoring him, but Artie was one of the few guys in glee who didn't resent him for some incomprehensible reason. "I'm having trouble balancing everything I care about. There's school and Kurt and performing and the campaigns. Every time I think one of the things I love is going really great, I drop the ball somewhere else."

"A man can do a lot, but he can't do it all. You have to choose what's most important to you. I hope that's _West Side Story_ this week, because you are a really talented performer, Blaine, and I'd hate to see you give up when you're so close to proving that to a sold out house."

It would have been simplest to give up the campaigns, or at least scale back how much he worked in Burt's Congressional office, but it left a pit in his stomach to think about not throwing himself full tilt into getting Burt elected. Ohio and the United States would stand a much better chance with Burt Hummel casting votes in Washington. But he'd also made a commitment to _West Side Story_, and he loved performing more than anything else in the world, except for Kurt.

Rachel didn't let him ruminate too long. She wanted to practice _Tonight_ again. It turned out to be a good idea. Blaine had had some trouble with the lower notes on that song, but he nailed it on opening night, so he'd have to thank her for pushing him. Not in front of Kurt, though, since she was still Presidential competition.

"We's be goin' to Breadstix!" Santana shouted, after the curtain fell and the cast celebrated backstage while they changed into their own clothes and hung up their costumes for tomorrow night's performance.

Blaine hung back, too caught up in his wallowing to spend time in a crowded room, especially when Kurt didn't want to hold his hand. His amazing boyfriend, though, gave him the perfect opportunity to apologize and forgave him. With Kurt beside him, Blaine felt like all his priorities aligned properly without the slightest disruption. What had felt impossible yesterday could be solved with creative thinking today.

Nothing else mattered the rest of the night as they lay together sharing themselves completely, and then exchanging lovesick looks, butterfly kisses, and touches of fingertips until Blaine's parents came home and Kurt had to leave. It wasn't fair at all that they couldn't spend the night together. It wasn't fair that time went on without them and ticked away the hours they'd lain together in bed forgetting about the world.

When they met up before Saturday's matinee and shared a kiss in the darkness backstage, time and life going on didn't seem quite so terrible. Everything and nothing had changed between them. They were still Kurt and Blaine, but more so than they'd ever been before.

"I'm torn between making phone calls after school on Monday and using those few free hours after school to fight with your layers," Blaine mumbled.

Kurt chewed on his bottom lip, and that made up Blaine's mind that Monday was for battling couture clothing. Unfortunately, Kurt had a different answer in mind.

"While I would love to do nothing but you all the time," he blushed to his ears and dropped is eyes as he said it, and Blaine started to beg him to please, please, please do nothing but him all the time, "I actually do want to see my dad elected to Congress."

"So do I," Blaine sighed. "Life is cruel for making us choose between sex and … anything else."

o o o

As Burt garnered more attention from the local media and began gaining a footing in the polls, more people began to take notice. A Democrat hadn't won the Ohio 4th since 1933, and yet Burt Hummel was poised to take the lead in the polls. The DNC couldn't help itself; it had to send aid in the form of professional campaign fundraisers, strategists, and speechwriters.

Monday afternoon found Kurt and Blaine sitting across a phone bank from each other dialing numbers on an automated list spat out by a computer and playing footsie under the table while they listened to the telephones ringing as Ohioans' caller ID allowed them to avoid answering political calls or else the dial tone after being hung up on.

"Hello, my name is Blaine Anderson. I'm calling on behalf of Burt Hummel, a candidate for the House of Representatives. Would you have a few minutes to talk to me today?"

Now that Blaine had a live person on the phone, Kurt withdrew his feet to let his boyfriend concentrate. Blaine pouted, and Kurt shoved a fist into his mouth to keep from giggling as he dialed another number.

"Oh, no, ma'am," Blaine said emphatically. "I've known Mr. Hummel personally for over a year, and I can assure you, he does not have a baboon heart."

Kurt missed a beat in his greeting on the telephone and passed Blaine an incredulous look. Blaine rolled his eyes and gestured at the telephone, as if to say 'some people.' The person on Kurt's line must have hung up, because he shrugged and crossed the number off his list. He began dialing again.

Blaine pressed his lips together and threw an apologetic look at Kurt before he answered another question. "I'm friends with his son."

Kurt's fingers paused over the number pad, and he sighed deeply. They knew how Kurt's sexuality and his relationship with Blaine could be used against Burt, and probably sometime soon one of the other candidates would make sexuality a hot button issue in the election. No one had outright asked Kurt to go back into the closet, but the new strategists had made it clear to Kurt and Blaine – not surprisingly when Burt was not in the room – that there was a delicate line to walk in a conservative district, and to cross that line to make a political statement would be to throw the election.

"Kurt, I'm sorry," Blaine apologized, as soon as he hung up the phone.

"No, don't be."

Kurt breathed deeply and jerked his head towards one of the empty rooms at the back of headquarters where they sometimes snuck off to make out. Blaine followed him immediately just a step behind, but even that was too much, so he reached out and gathered Kurt's hand into his. When the door was sealed behind them, Kurt released a shuddering breath he hadn't wanted to share with a room full of strangers. It tore at Blaine's heart that he hurt, but he felt so privileged to be the one person Kurt would show his vulnerabilities to.

"Blaine, if you've changed your mind …."

"I haven't. Kurt, we talked about this, and I feel the same way I always have. This state and this country – _this world_ – needs good men and women leading us into the future. If not rocking the boat will make that happen, I'm willing to do that."

"I can't help feeling like this situation – _I'm_ – pushing you back in the closet."

"You're not. No one is." He hesitated, almost afraid to ask because the answer could end all of this right now, but more afraid of the boy he loved hurting in silence. "Do _you_ feel like you're being pushed back in the closet?"

Kurt snorted. "My closet full of sequins and boas? I can't pass, Blaine. I never had a closet."

"You know that's not what I'm asking."

Kurt huffed. "Why do you always push when I don't want you to? But whenever I hope you do, you just sit there cute as ever with that adorable smile that makes it impossible for me to be mad at you?"

"You mean this smile?" He flashed the exact one. Kurt huffed again. "Come on, Kurt. Talk to me. We've always been honest with each other, and I still want that. We took a huge step together, Kurt. We gave each other everything. I don't want our relationship to be a trade off – physical for emotional, or the other way around. I'm kind of selfish. I want all of you."

"I want all of you too." He sighed. "Okay. Yes, I do feel pressured to not draw attention to my sexuality. Not by anyone close to my dad or the volunteers. I think over half of them actually are here because my dad is a blue collar guy proud of his gay son. It's the smarmy DNC people. They're always rattling off polling data and voter profiles, and I know all of that is important, but when they talk about me, I'm not a person. It's always this percentage would vote for a candidate with a gay child, this percentage wouldn't. I'm a pawn in their games, and they act like everything about me – down to the way I was born – is up for negotiation. I just got to the point where I'm comfortable being a unicorn, and now I'm back to wishing I wasn't."

It took all his willpower not to gather his boyfriend into a tight embrace and never let go, but he let Kurt curl into himself and work out for himself when he wanted to be held.

"I, for one, am really glad that you are a unicorn. It's the reason I fell in love with you, and even before I realized how I felt, I loved that about you. Everyone who knows you is awed by your unicorn."

Kurt swallowed a laugh. "You are so …." He shook his head, trying to fight off a smile. "What I think you're trying to say in your geeky-charming way is that if I survived getting crowned prom queen, I can handle not having the tiara too."

"No, not at all. But I like the words you put in my mouth."

Blaine leaned forward and kissed his boyfriend lightly. Kurt trapped him in a welcomed hug, and they swayed together in the center of the room.

"Blaine? Your dad makes you feel like this every day, doesn't he?"

He mumbled into the fabric of Kurt's jacket. "Yes."

"God, I'm so sorry. The Hummel family is supposed to be a safe place for you."

"It is," Blaine promised. "It doesn't hurt as much coming from people who don't know me."

Kurt made a choked sound and held him tighter.

o o o

A week before the election, Blaine's prediction that one of the other candidates would bring sexuality into the mix came true, but not in the way he'd thought. He'd thought for sure it would be about Kurt (and maybe himself), and Burt would come out swinging. Burt did come out swinging, but to defend Santana.

"That stupid pizza guy can't win this election!" Rachel shouted.

She pounded her fist on the top of a yard sign that refused to sink into the ground. Blaine came to her rescue and left her to rant with Kurt some more. Ever since they'd made up, Rachel had been coming along on their door-to-door push to hand out flyers about Burt's campaign and put up yard signs to get his name out there. By strict instruction, she wasn't allowed to speak to anyone who answered the door, and as she was still trying to placate Kurt, she did a good job at staying quiet until the door closed again.

"Outing a high school student is just so sleazy," she went on.

"It was a desperate attempt by Salazar to gain a few more points in the polls," Blaine answered. "And he did, but not as much as he hoped. It's not much of a victory, especially not for Santana, but it's the only silver lining we have."

They moved on to the next house, so Rachel pressed her mouth into a tight smile and paused on the step behind Kurt and Blaine as they rang the doorbell and waited. She disappeared behind them, which was their intention. If no one looked at her, she wouldn't be tempted to rant inappropriately and hurt the campaign.

"Hello, I'm Kurt. This is Blaine. We're coming around today to pass out information on Burt Hummel who's running for the House of Representatives. Have you decided who you're voting for yet?"

"Hummel's got some sick perversions. Who marries a donkey?"

Kurt's cheeks flushed red, and Rachel made a sound like she wanted to object, so Blaine jumped in with an answer.

"Some of the attack ads you've seen have been overblown. Mrs. Hummel is a very intelligent, sophisticated lady, and comparing her to a donkey was unfair and cruel. If you'd like to take a look at one of our flyers, you'll see that Mr. Hummel's campaign is pro-education and pro-equality …."

The woman eventually took one of the flyers, but obviously only to get them off her stoop. They trudged down the sidewalk a little less buoyant. No one was home at the next house, so they left a flyer around the door handle and moved on.

"This is more fun when we find people who are voting for your dad," Rachel observed.

"But not really the point."

When they got back to headquarters two hours later to drop off the lawn signs in the store room, the volunteers had boxes of mailers ready to be delivered to the post office. Blaine and Kurt lugged them out to the car while Rachel pretended she had to go to the bathroom again to get out of it.

"She is unbelievable," Kurt grumbled.

"Are you really going to name her Vice President when you win?"

"When I win? If only your wishing made it so. But, yes, if I win, she'll be my Vice President. God knows why."

With the last of the boxes in the trunk, Blaine leaned against the side of the car. "Because she's your best friend."

"She's my best girl friend, yes, but she's not the one I want when things get tough or go wrong. She can't cheer me up with a smile, and she's definitely not okay with me putting words into her mouth, even if those words comfort me."

"Oh? And who might this lucky person be who gets to see the real Kurt Hummel all the time?" Blaine batted his lashes playfully.

Kurt put on an innocent face. "Finn, of course." Blaine laughed brightly, and Kurt managed to keep his straight face for a few more seconds. "Who else would I go to for sage advice and profound wisdom than my stepbrother who spends time contemplating how bad he would feel in the event he started a zombie virus Apocalypse?"

They were still laughing when Mr. Schue stuck his head outside and called them in. "Burt's on TV!"

They raced inside and caught the tail end of an interview. A camera crew had showed up at the tire shop, catching Burt in his coveralls streaked with grease. He screamed everyman, but spoke with such steadfast nobility he could have been a knight in shining armor from the old courtly romances. The DNC strategists looked smug, so clearly they'd orchestrated it.

"Voters have to ask themselves who they want in office. Do you want the candidate who only stands against something? Do you want the candidate who resorts to cheap shots at high school kids? Or do you want the candidate who believes in something and isn't afraid to stand up and say it?"

"And _that_," Mr. Schue said, with a sharp look at the DNC guys, "is why Burt Hummel is going to be our next Congressman!"

The volunteers cheered and chattered excitedly as they wandered away to their stations again.

"Just think," Rachel said excitedly, "in a week, we're going to be having a double victory party!"

o o o

They did not have a double victory party on election day.

Burt and Carole went to the polls in the morning with WOHN cameras following them, and then they went to headquarters while they waited for the results to come in that night. There was nothing else for a candidate to do. The campaigning had been done. It was all about results and managing any crisis that arose, which the campaign staff took care of, but Burt wanted to be there for the news cameras that came to take footage for the noon newscast.

Meanwhile, the students at McKinley took turns leaving class to vote for their President. Naturally, Blaine voted for Kurt and couldn't resist drawing a little heart next to his name because he was in love and allowed to do stuff like that. Kurt was a nervous wreck, of course, but everything seemed to be going fine despite Jacob Ben Israel's stupid straw poll. That is, Blaine thought everything was fine until Kurt found him after school.

He was a mess of tears and rapid-fire sentences that Blaine didn't quite catch at first as they hurried out to Kurt's car where they could maybe hold each other like a normal couple who didn't have to worry about homophobic bullies. They thought Kurt had cheated. Burt had been called down to the school. Kurt had been disqualified and faced suspension.

The seedy underbelly of politics couldn't be avoided even in high school, but Kurt didn't need cynicism right now, so Blaine opened his arms and rubbed his boyfriend's back while whispering encouragements into his ear.

"You were the best candidate, Kurt. You stood up and said what no one at this school has ever been brave enough to say. I've been proud of you since the first day I met you, but never so much as during the debate. You are an inspiration, Kurt."

"Inspiration isn't going to get me into NYADA."

"Of course it will. That's what audiences want from their actors, Kurt. They watch plays and movies and television to be inspired. And to watch pretty people do naughty things, but you're in luck because you are gorgeous, and you look so hot when you do naughty things."

"_Blaine!_" Kurt slapped his arm, but there was a ghost of a smile somewhere deep beneath his heart eyes. "Oh, okay. Fine. Say something else ridiculous or risqué and make me smile. We have to go to headquarters for the election results, and if my dad wins I don't want to be a weepy mess for all the wrong reasons."

"Now you've put me on the spot. I don't have anything. I'm sorry. Unless you want a handjob."

Kurt's eyes widened comically, and then he caught the intention behind Blaine's words and let out a nervous chuckle. Blaine lifted a brow.

"Oh. So you really do want a handjob? All right. Let's go back to your house since there's no one there."

"You're so over the top."

"So you don't want a handjob?"

"I didn't say that!" Kurt rushed, and then colored up when Blaine laughed and darted forward to kiss him. He took Blaine's hand over the gearshift as they pulled out of the lot. "I'm glad I have you here with me, Blaine."

o o o

The volunteers had decked out the campaign headquarters with red, white, and blue striped paper streamers around the giant posters of Burt hanging on the wall declaring "Hummel for Congress" and slogans along the bottom. Whether Burt gave a victory or concession speech tonight, he would do it in front of a room full of supporters.

The staff and volunteers stayed in the main lobby watching the ticker scroll on WOHN while the Hudson-Hummels, Blaine, Mr. Schue, and Ms. Pillsbury sat together in a private room with the television on mute. No one said too much, except Burt and Mr. Schue who read through both drafts of the speech together. Sometimes, Blaine thought he saw dejection on Kurt's face from the corner of his eye, but it disappeared whenever he glanced over. He did the only thing he could: hold Kurt's hand in silent support.

At eight o'clock, Mr. Schue's phone rang. He stepped outside to take the call and slipped in again a moment later. Everyone waited with baited breath.

"That was the Ohio Election Board. They're ready to call the election." He face split into a smile. "Congratulations, Congressman Hummel!"

The noise outside as Rod Remington read the election results drowned out the cheering inside the private room. Burt pulled everyone into bear hugs and held his breath so he wouldn't start crying when he tried to say thank you. Mr. Schue and Ms. Pillsbury left to go organize the impending speeches, and recognizing a family moment for what it was, Blaine sidled to the door. Carole caught him, however, and pulled him to her side. Whether she'd done it to stop him from leaving or out of instinct, he didn't know.

"I couldn't have done this without any of you. All of you, my family, inspired me to do this, and you'll inspire me to do the best job I can in Washington. I love you guys."

They formed a tight circle of hugs, their heads bent together with silent words, while the party kicked into high gear outside. Finally, the disappointment had retreated from Kurt's face. Blaine didn't kid himself that it was gone for good, but at least he could forget about it for tonight.

Burt and Carole sent the teenagers out to find places at the front of the crowd. Journalists would be covering his victory speech, and they wanted some photographs of Burt's family. One of the DNC strategists, a man named Peter, took Blaine by the elbow and steered him away from Kurt and Finn.

"Whoa. Hey, dude. Where are you taking Blaine?" Finn asked. "We're supposed to go up front."

"The Congressman's family, yes. I'm sure Blaine will find you when the cameras stop rolling."

"Umm. I'm pretty sure Burt wants Blaine with us. I mean, he just called him family and said he couldn't have done this without him, so I kind of think he's expecting to see Blaine in the front row."

At times like this, Blaine really didn't know what to make of Finn. He could be incredibly supportive and good-natured one minute, and then an insensitive jerk the next. His bipolar personality had a definite home/school split, but all the same, it confused Blaine.

"It's fine, Finn," Blaine said.

He shook Peter's arm off his elbow and walked away on his own. Kurt must have succinctly explained the situation, however, because not fifteen seconds later, he heard Finn exclaim:

"Not cool, dude. I'm telling Burt."

"Finn!" Kurt shouted, but it was too late. Burt had already come out of the office looking about ready to shoot fire from his eyes. Peter took a staggering step backwards, and luckily for him, Burt was presently more concerned with Blaine and Kurt.

"Dad, it's fine," Kurt rushed to say. "Blaine and I talked about it, and we understand it's not politic to –"

"Do you think I care what's 'politic'?" Burt demanded. "I care about you two and not letting anyone make you feel like there's anything about yourselves that you have to hide. We have been given a great opportunity to make this district and this country a better place. We're not wasting it by hiding what the people of Ohio and the United States need to see. Personally, I think it'd do them a heaping portion of good to see two boys who love each other on the front page of the newspaper."

Kurt and Blaine exchanged happy grins and nodded at Burt to signal their understanding.

"Thank you, dad."

"Yeah. Thanks, Mr. – Congressman."

Burt made a sound in the back of his throat. "It's time for you to start calling me Burt, and I'm not taking that 'Dalton gentleman' excuse. You are _not_ calling me Congressman at my own dinner table and in my own tire shop."

"Yes, sir."

Burt glared at him, but Kurt laughed brightly.

"He is infuriating like that."

They joined the party holding hands. Champagne and sparkling cider flowed freely as everyone celebrated their victory and campaign staff took their turns giving speeches thanking the volunteers, their colleagues, and Burt. They toasted the people of Ohio's 4th Congressional time and again. For a group of just over twenty, they made a rowdy crowd. At last, Mr. Schue came on stage to announce Burt.

"Ladies and gentlemen, the man of the hour, Ohio's newest Congressman … Burt Hummel!"

Burt walked onto stage to hearty applause. He struggled with allowing his supporters to fully express their joy and tried to quiet them much too soon. His humility played as self-conscious chuckles and headshakes while he held his palms up.

"Thank you. Thank you."

Finally the crowd went silent and listened. Blaine spied the photographer darting around the stage and crowd snapping pictures, and a journalist with a press pass hanging around her neck holding up a Dictaphone in the front row.

"I never dreamed I'd be standing up here as your Congressman. I was born and raised here, I went to junior college, and I took over the family business right here in Lima. I started a family here with my late wife, and I extended my family here with my beautiful wife Carole. Some of you who voted for other candidates are probably wondering how a guy like me got voted Congressman." Burt paused, nodding. "I'm right there with you."

The audience chuckled appreciatively. Burt settled into a more serious tone for the second half of his acceptance speech.

"You've heard all about my campaign platform. I'm a strong supporter of education, equality, and the men and women in the armed forces. A majority of you liked what I had to say, and you voted for me to represent you in Congress. To those of you who voted for another candidate, I respect your decision, and I understand you might have some reservations tonight. I'll address every one of your concerns. For tonight, let's start with this: I give you my word that I'll be the best Congressman for this district I can be."

As Blaine clapped with the crowd until his palms stung, he wondered if Burt had an off switch or if motivational speeches were his default. He must have been one hell of a quarterback, and he'd be a force to be reckoned with on the House floor.

Blaine had never stood more in awe of a man in his life.

o o o

Blaine had thought with the elections over and _West Side Story_ ended that his life might get a little less complicated. He knew Sectionals would require a lot of work, especially since so many great singers had defected to the Troubletones, but he hadn't anticipated the emotional knife-in-the-gut that accompanied Sam Evans's return triggering all his pent-up anger towards the guys in glee who still hadn't accepted him after three months of being teammates. Nor the whiplash-inducing hairpin turn that ended up with Finn and Sam becoming his friends and Mr. Schue featuring him in two incredible songs. A first place win at Sectionals was the icing on the proverbial cake.

"I feel like my life has switched from angst-riddled soap opera to feel-good family comedy in an hour," Blaine said.

Kurt grinned easily from where he leaned against the bank of lockers beside Blaine's. "I knew you'd work it out eventually. You're such a boy, though, always shoving people."

"Yeah, my temper isn't pretty."

"No, but it is kind of hot." Blaine choked on air. "What? I told you. I like it when you assert yourself. You're so masculine, and I … can't continue this in the hallway at school. Hold that thought."

"Uh, _yeah_."

Blaine pulled his history book from his locker, and they made their way down the corridor towards the corner where they'd have to depart in two minutes to make it to their respective classrooms in time.

"So I was thinking," Blaine started. "Whatever happened to that PFLAG chapter you and Karofsky started?"

"He transferred, and he was the only person who came besides us and the glee club. I figured there wasn't reason to keep it going if we see each other in glee everyday anyway. Why do you ask?"

"We talk about these really important issues all the time, but don't we have a bigger responsibility? You obviously saw that last year when you started the group. I just … I want to do _something_. I can't stand just sitting around and talking anymore, especially if the only people I'm talking to already agree with me."

"I'm impressed with your altruism and maturity. What did you have in mind?"

"To start with, I joined TrevorSpace to virtually encourage those gay teens who don't show up at my school to spy on my glee club." Kurt bumped his shoulder and smiled widely. "And I think I'll start a vigorous e-mail writing campaign, plus now that I know a Congressman I can tell him my thoughts in person. It's not a lot, but telling my own story is all I know how to do right now."

Kurt stopped at the corner where they had to part ways.

"It is a lot, Blaine. We're the products of a culture that tells us we're not normal. We're bullied, we're taunted, we're victims of hate crimes. Our stories aren't easy to share, but if we don't, we'll be invisible too."

Blaine looked at the floor and nodded with a growing smile. "So … does this count as me asserting myself?"

With a sigh, Kurt spun Blaine around by the shoulders and nudged him down the hallway. "Go to class, honey."

"It totally does, doesn't it?"

Kurt gave him a little wave as he backed into class. Yeah, it totally counted as asserting himself. Blaine beamed the whole way to class. He felt exhilarated and free. He had Kurt, glee club, and a purpose. His life wasn't perfect, but he thought it was close enough to think of it as gloriously happy. He took his seat in class and almost tried to pay attention, but his happiness carried him away to fantasies full of bachelor chalets in black and white and promise rings made of bubblegum wrappers.


	2. Summer 2012

**Summer 2012**

Blaine broached the topic over dinner on Friday night after his dad stopped talking about his day at the office because his mom stopped pretending to listen. He wished he could be at the Hummel's for dinner like usual on Friday, but there was no one at the Hummel's house in Lima tonight. The House would be in session through the first week of August, which meant two more weeks without Kurt.

It felt so unfair to be separated like this when Kurt would be going to New York so soon. Just a week after the Hummels came home from Washington, D.C. in fact. They'd had all of June and the first week of July together, and they'd talked about using their time apart as an adjustment period, but after just four days apart they'd come to their senses and recognized it for what it was: a waste of what little time they could be spending together.

So they'd come up with a new plan. Burt and Carole had agreed immediately. Now it was up to Blaine to convince his parents.

"Dad, Mom, I have something to ask you."

They looked up from their plates and over to their son who had laid down his fork in anticipation of a harrowing conversation. His dad still wore his business suit and tie, reminding Blaine of a forbidding executive staring over his immaculate desk at an entry level peon. His mom had changed into an age-inappropriate track suit that made him long for Carole's motherly kisses to his temple.

"I've been invited to stay out of state for a while. I'd be gone for about a week or just a little over, starting tomorrow, if I want to leave that soon. It wouldn't cost anything except food and entertainment, and I've saved up for that. I'd really, really like to go."

"Details," his dad said pointedly. "I don't mind you going on vacation with your friends, but I want to know who and where. You're seventeen and a responsible kid, but that doesn't negate my responsibility for your wellbeing."

Blaine breathed harshly through his nose and pursed his lips. "I would be in Washington, D.C. with the Hummels."

His dad sighed deeply and laid down his fork. Across the table, his mom mirrored the action with less outward disapproval, but more sadness in her eyes. Blaine swallowed thickly and pushed down the emotion swelling up in him. He had to keep calm, mature, and logical or he wouldn't see Kurt until it was almost time to say goodbye.

"I wish you didn't put us in these positions where we have to say no," his mom said sadly. "Sweetheart, we can't let you spend the week with your boyfriend when we're not around to supervise you two."

Blaine almost laughed. He and Kurt had almost totally given up on being intimate at the Hummel's house because someone was always around, but the Andersons left them nice gaps of alone time that they filled with kisses, touches, and orgasms with no fear of getting caught.

"Congressman and Mrs. Hummel will be there."

He could see from the plain expressions on their faces that a definitive no would be coming soon if he didn't come up with a more compelling argument. He knew his parents, and he'd prepared one they wouldn't be able to refuse.

"I could visit Georgetown while I'm there."

The conversation around the table went quiet, but a hum of interest coursed between his parents as they exchanged quick glances. His dad leaned forward and captured his eyes.

"Are you seriously considering law?"

"Yes and no. I'm considering law school, but I don't want to be a lawyer. I'm thinking about activism."

It came so close to the big dreams they'd had for him since he was a child that it gave them pause. They deliberated silently while they considered if his face was truthful or if this was a trick to get them to agree to a plan they weren't comfortable supporting. At last, his dad picked up his fork, thus resuming dinner.

"You should visit George Washington University while you're there too."

o o o

The drive to Washington, D.C. took about ten hours of blasting what Kurt had dubbed 'Blaine Anderson's Superstar Playlist' which consisted mainly of Top 40 pop he'd performed in glee club or sung to Kurt at the top of his lungs in the car, because whatever Kurt said about his taste in music, he did love watching Blaine perform.

Washington, D.C. was a strange place to drive. One minute he was on an interstate with a staggering number of lanes, and then compressed into bumper-to-bumper traffic, and then creeping down a quiet street in front of handsome brownstones. He'd thought the national monuments and iconic buildings would distract him, but actually the press of traffic and narrow neighborhood streets cured him of that delusion. Aside from a glimpse of the Capitol dome, he hadn't noticed anything more interesting than cars and trees.

Not thirty seconds after sending his "I'm here" text and popping the trunk, Kurt came bouncing down the steps of a brownstone with his arms flung open wide and elation putting a toothy grin on his lips. Blaine caught him and breathed in the scent of Kurt all around him.

"Guess what we can do in the middle of the street in D.C.?"

Kurt didn't give him a chance to answer. He clapped his hands on Blaine's cheeks and gave him a hard, steamy kiss that left him reeling and leaning against the car for support. When they parted, he gasped for breath and scrambled to pull Kurt to him again, but a throat clearing from the sidewalk not two steps away drew their attention.

"Sorry to interrupt the reunion," Burt said amusedly. "I thought I'd come say hello."

"We did have plans to come inside, Dad," Kurt sighed.

He reluctantly let go of Blaine, who was then pulled into a bear hug by Burt. The warmth of the embrace startled Blaine, but then he realized how much he'd missed Burt too. Somewhere between an awkward conversation about sex in the tire shop and the excited phone call about Kurt's NYADA audition while Blaine recovered from surgery, they'd become genuinely close.

"Will you boys get inside already? We're not paying to cool the city," Carole called from the door.

Burt rushed to pick up Blaine's suitcase and jog up the front steps. Kurt shook his head and tugged his boyfriend inside. The blessed air conditioning washed away the cloying humidity clogging the air outside, and Blaine could breathe a little easier. Carole hugged him tightly and pressed a kiss to his cheek.

"We've missed you, Blaine." She looked a little teary as she wiped her lipstick off his skin. "You are going to have to come over for Friday dinners every week when we're at home."

Maybe it should have sounded strange to have dinner alone with his boyfriend's parents, except it didn't at all. Blaine agreed immediately.

Kurt insisted on a tour of the brownstone next. It had been decorated rather simply, although touches of color and décor said Kurt had been refining the interior design over the last week. It felt very different from the house in Lima, however. It felt too pretentious for Burt and Carole, but somewhere he'd absolutely love to live with Kurt someday.

When they circled back to the living room, Burt surveyed them closely until Carole prodded him with her elbow. He threw her a placating look.

"All right. Fine. Blaine, your stuff is in Kurt's room."

The boys stared at the Hummels for a minute, and then both flushed bright red and averted their eyes. It was wonderful that Burt and Carole were that comfortable and trusting, but also horribly mortifying that his boyfriend's parents knew they had sex. God, what if they'd been too loud once? Or if they'd left their condoms and lube lying around? Or if they'd let some comment slip?

"I told you we should have just let them sneak around," Burt said.

The boys darted upstairs to the safety of Kurt's room on the third floor. Finn popped his head out of his room to say hello, but saw only a slamming door.

"Oh my God," Blaine panicked.

"I know! This is wonderful! You're here for nine days, and then I'm going back to Lima with you for a week, and we get to be together without any walls or stupid house rules."

Blaine stared. "Kurt, we are not having sex with your parents in the house!"

That promise lasted approximately five hours, and then Blaine had his face buried in a pillow to keep himself quiet while Kurt did everything humanly possible to wring sounds out of him.

o o o

Finn did not want to spend the day sightseeing, and that was fine with Kurt and Blaine. It meant they could wander around Washington, D.C. with their hands swinging between them and enjoy art galleries, history museums, and beautiful architecture. They both had dreams of New York, but for now D.C. suited their needs just fine. It was a beautiful, sophisticated city with plenty of cultural delights and exquisite green spaces to admire. Except for the insufferable heat that melted Blaine's gel and released his curls, it was the perfect setting for their first (almost) vacation together.

"Where to next?"

"Well, the National Archives is across the street," Kurt said. "Or we can walk through the Sculpture garden. Unless you're hungry and want to get lunch."

Blaine checked his watch. It was already past one o'clock. They'd spent the whole morning in the National Gallery. "We're never going to see everything if we keep loitering in front of famous paintings."

"I know," Kurt said. "But we'll come back here all the time to see my parents. We can see a different museum every time we come."

Blaine quite liked the idea of making future plans and traditions with Kurt. He leaned over and kissed his boyfriend sweetly on the cheek.

"Let's go have lunch, and then go to the sculpture garden."

As they passed a nondescript white limestone building, Blaine's eyes fell on a young man not much older than himself and Kurt. He sat quietly on the sidewalk with his legs crossed and his hands resting on his thighs. A sign next to him read: "There is an indicted war criminal working in this building. He's never been punished. The government is protecting him. If I tell you his name, I'll be prosecuted for defamation."

Blaine slowed to a crawl, his eyes flitting between the sign and the young man beside it. He searched the building for any indication of what its purpose might be, but found nothing identifying. He let the momentum of the crowd pull him forward, but his head turned back towards the lone man making a statement on foreign policy.

He wondered where the man had found out about a war criminal and how he could sit so calmly while the crowd walked by judging him for better or worse. He wondered if he had the strength and courage to do the same. Could he sit outside Michael North, Chad Holmkes, and Mark Rosenberg's houses with a sign that said: "A homophobic bully lives here. He broke my jaw and two ribs because I went to a school dance with another boy. He was never charged with a hate crime"? And if he couldn't, how did he become the person who could?

"Blaine. _Blaine._" Kurt's voice brought him out of his thoughts. "What do you want to drink?"

He started when he saw a waitress standing over their table. He didn't remember even arriving at the restaurant (or agreeing to this one).

"A Diet Coke. Thanks."

Kurt's eyes followed the waitress's retreat and then swiveled around to him again. "Are you okay? You look pale. Are you overheated?"

"No. No, I'm fine."

"Really? Because you just ordered a Diet Coke willingly."

"You're rubbing off on me," he teased.

Kurt let it go while they flipped through the bistro's menu, and by the time the waitress came to take their orders Blaine had composed himself enough stop worrying Kurt.

"So, I was thinking that tomorrow we could go to the Museum of Natural History," Kurt said. "Now, I know that's not usually my thing, but I hear they have an amazing collection of precious gems."

"Sure. No, wait. I can't tomorrow. I have a college visit."

"Oh, okay." Kurt cocked his head to the side and laughed, "Wait. What? The NY in NYADA stands for New York, which is also where Julliard and Tisch are. What college could you possibly be looking at here?"

"Georgetown and George Washington."

Kurt lifted his brow. "I see."

"Come on, Kurt. Don't be like that. You didn't really think my parents would let me stay with your family without getting something out of the deal. I told them I'd go see the campuses, and I kind of do want to visit."

"Okay," Kurt conceded. "I've mostly been sightseeing in Capitol Hill, and I've wanted to see other parts of the city anyway."

Blaine played with his straw while Kurt explained what he'd learned about other parts of the city so far and how he was secretly excited to use public transportation for the first time so he could practice before he got to New York and made a fool of himself. Blaine grinned through the whole speech because of how cute Kurt looked, but his eyes must have been vacant, because his boyfriend stopped abruptly and took his hand across the table.

"You're not really here. Tell me what's on your mind."

"It's nothing, Kurt. I don't want to say anything that might upset you when I'm not even sure what I'm thinking."

"Since when have we had to censor ourselves? I want you to always be able to talk to me no matter what."

Blaine took a deep breath while the waitress appeared with the food and asked if they needed anything else. He wasted time pouring ketchup onto his fries, but Kurt was still eyeing him steadily when he looked up. He sighed again.

"Okay. With you going off to college so soon and so excited, I've been doing some thinking about my future. And … I'm not one hundred percent sure I want to go to drama school."

Blaine cringed through the words. The shock on Kurt's face told him his boyfriend had expected to hear anything but that. Kurt's mouth worked for a few minutes before he found words.

"You're an amazing performer, Blaine. How could you even doubt that?"

"No, no. It's not that I don't think I _could_ get in. It's that I don't know if I _want_ to."

"So you're really looking at Georgetown and George Washington?"

"I … I don't know," Blaine confessed.

Kurt looked down at his salad with a range of emotions Blaine couldn't identify washing over his face. When he made eye contact again, he was the same dependable, loving boy he'd always been. He took Blaine's hand again and rubbed his thumb over the smooth skin on the back of Blaine's hand.

"Whatever you decide, Blaine, I'll be right here with you. As long as it makes you happy, I'll be your number one fan."

They didn't talk about Georgetown or George Washington or majors other than drama for the next week, except on Wednesday when they went to look around the campuses. Blaine wasn't very impressed with the George Washington University campus. It felt too predictably grand mixed with shockingly plain in the oddest combination. Georgetown's campus he adored, but the Catholic affiliation would always tarnish it in his mind. After Wednesday, they both put Washington, D.C universities out of mind.

o o o

On the following Monday, the Hudson-Hummels and Blaine woke early for a summer day and dressed up like they hadn't since Finn and Rachel's failed wedding attempt. Seeing Finn in a suit when a glee club competition wasn't imminent still made Blaine do a double take, but the tall boy had donned a gray suit all the same. Carole had on a pretty yellow dress when she called Kurt out of his room to help her pick out the right jewelry and came downstairs in an equally pretty purple dress he'd convinced her to change into. Since Burt's election, he'd grown more accustomed to dressing up and even had on a nice tie to match his plain black suit.

But only Kurt and Blaine had really put their personalities into their nice clothes: Blaine in the form of tweed and a bowtie (which always made Sam called him Doctor), and Kurt in his customary designer outfit. Today, he had toned it down considerably. The pants weren't quite as tight as usual, and the accessories weren't as shiny, although the light gray suit trimmed in black with a check tie certainly did draw the eye.

"Are you feeling okay?"

Kurt looked at Blaine's reflection in the mirror and nodded nervously. He breathed out heavily and shook his hands to work out the nerves. Blaine ran his hands down his boyfriend's arms and kissed the side of his neck.

"This is a huge day for my dad. Everything I do reflects on him for the rest of his political career. These aren't just his buddies or guys at the garage. These are national leaders – _world leaders!_"

"You're going to be amazing today."

Kurt took in his calm, sure expression and nodded like he needed to convince himself just a little more. Blaine kissed his neck again and slipped his arms around his boyfriend's waist. Kurt relaxed against him, but not enough to wrinkle his suit.

"I'm so glad I'll have you with me."

Carole called them out to the foyer when the sleek black sedans arrived. Blaine, Kurt, and Finn rode in one car together while Burt and Carole took the lead car. They met up again in the Rayburn Office Building where Burt's chief of staff and an intern were waiting to walk with them over to the Capitol building.

The chief of staff, a woman called Louise, rattled off a list of Congressmen expected to vote for and against the bill, meetings he had later in the afternoon, and a litany of other bullet points. Blaine had been leery of the Congressional staff after the problems with the DNC strategists during the campaign, but Kurt assured him it had been made clear to the staff that they were not to 'handle' Burt's family.

A few paces back, Max, the intern, prattled on about how offices were allocated in the House and Senate buildings, the tunnel system running between the buildings to the Capitol, and the unique décor of the tunnels themselves. Blaine thought the drawings by children from all fifty states were adorable, but he didn't have much time to enjoy them considering how fast Louise and Max walked and talked. He liked to think he was a pretty physically fit guy with all the boxing and dancing, but the speed walking was taking its toll on his lungs.

At the end of the tunnel, they went through security and entered up into the Capitol building itself. Burt introduced the family to several Congressman and Congresswomen he'd worked with for the past few months. Blaine couldn't keep all the names straight, but he shook hands and gave polite smiles to everyone, too dazed by the location and the fact that Burt didn't hesitate to say, "and my son's boyfriend, Blaine Anderson" or the way the several of them asked, "How long have you been together?" because, to these blessed elected officials, it mattered not at all that they were both male.

Blaine nearly fell over when he realized he was shaking hands with Nancy Pelosi, and then again when she addressed Burt by his first name and asked him to step into a quick meeting before they went inside. Blaine had always thought Congressmen from districts like the Ohio 4th didn't get to talk to the ones with high public profiles, but he guessed a Democrat getting elected in a district they'd lost for the past seventy years made Burt something of a leadership darling.

"The Congressman asked me to give you a tour of the Capitol building before the session starts," Max said. "We'll start here on the House side."

The Capitol was nothing Blaine hadn't seen on television and in movies before, but cameras couldn't capture the way sound echoed off the marble or the worn path where the feet of great men had trod. Max was full of fun trivia about George Washington painted into the mural around the oculus and the acoustics that made a whisper audible from across the room.

At ten minutes to the call to order, Max hustled them back over to the House side and into the gallery overlooking the House floor. The tiny blue seats had been made in a time when people were generally smaller, Blaine imagined, because while he fit perfectly into the auditorium-style seats, Finn had to twist awkwardly to make his knees fit in the row.

At ten o'clock sharp, John Boehner called the House to order. Blaine kind of hated Americans a little bit for electing a Republican majority. He would have much preferred to see Nancy Pelosi at that podium. Kurt made a scandalized sound when the chaplain led a prayer and refused to bow his head or close his eyes. Blaine knew they'd have a lively debate over dinner about separation of Church and State, which he couldn't wait to be part of. He loved political discussions when Kurt got riled up.

Five minutes were wasted when a Representative from Utah objected to the Speaker approving the Journal from yesterday's session, not because he found the record incorrect, but because a quorum wasn't present. Blaine didn't understand that bit entirely, but the rolling eyes on the floor told him enough about the motion.

"Will the gentleman from Ohio come forward and lead the House in the Pledge of Allegiance?" the Speaker asked.

Every day a different Congressman led the House in the pledge, but today was extra special. Burt strode forward down the aisle to the podium and everyone in the House stood and placed their hands over their hearts as Burt spoke the words into the microphone. Both Blaine and Kurt went silent for two words (which had been added in during the 1950's as a knee-jerk reaction to godless Communism, so taking them out actually made the Pledge of Allegiance more authentic and rational). Blaine's silence thrilled Kurt, and he knew they'd have a passionate discussion about this too.

The next thirty minutes nearly put Finn to sleep, or would have if Carole hadn't prodded him awake with a sharp poke every time his eyelids fluttered. The regimented, staid back-and-forth in the discussion as one Congressman argued, yielded to another for a question, was thanked for yielding, and then reclaimed their time to answer, but first with an acceptance of the thanks dragged the conversation out. It probably did seem ridiculous to most people, but being a Warbler had accustomed Blaine to Robert's Rules of Order. He liked the predictability and civility in the way the opposing sides addressed each other even when they bitterly disagreed.

From what Blaine gathered, the debate wasn't on the bill at all, but an amendment that the Democrats thought shouldn't be there and the Republicans refused to remove. Finally, the Speaker called the vote. It was a five minute vote cast electronically. The Congressmen took the opportunity to stretch their legs by congregating down in the Well of the House, or maybe they were arguing the merits of the amendment in a last ditch effort to sway votes. Blaine couldn't hear over the din of voices. Getting the Congressmen back into their seats and settled down was remarkably like Figgins trying to take control of his audience at a school assembly.

The roll began at the top of the alphabet and nearly put Finn back into a slumber. Blaine couldn't blame him this time. The debate had kept him alert before, but listening to how Congressmen he wasn't familiar with had voted didn't exactly stimulate his mind. All the same, they waited eagerly for one name to be read.

"Mr. Hummel of Ohio votes aye."

The whole family sat up straighter in their seats, pride and elation written on their faces. Kurt brought his hands together in a silent clap and rocked back with a silent cry of joy on his lips. Blaine had watched Burt vote before on C-SPAN, but watching a man he knew and loved like a father vote in person in the very room where Abraham Lincoln and John F. Kennedy had stood made him feel profoundly different than when separated by a television screen and hundreds of miles.

The roll moved on down the alphabet. The ayes had it. The bill passed the House with the amendment intact and would move on to the Senate. If it passed there too, it would go to the President for veto or approval.

Later that night, the family sat around the dining room table in the brownstone eating pasta salad in t-shirts and jeans – designer, in his and Kurt's cases – like they were back in Ohio after Burt had come home from the garage and Carole from the hospital. They did, indeed, talk extensively about everything Kurt had approved and disapproved of during the House session. Unlike the Andersons, however, Burt and Carole didn't mind disagreeing with each other and having a lively debate about the details.

"Frankly, Burt, I was surprised you voted for the bill with that amendment. You've been complaining about it for weeks."

"It was a tough tradeoff. I'm not thrilled with the final result." He breathed deeply through his nose. "I wish there were a few more people on the Hill who didn't take this as a win 'cause we could have done so much better."

"How do you make that call?" Blaine wondered. "I'm all for compromise, but how do you know where to draw the line?"

"Wherever you draw it, it's a fine line," Burt said.

"I think a lot of it is your motivation," Carole answered. "I think that makes all the difference between compromising to work towards something better than what you have and compromising yourself and your beliefs."

Blaine's thoughts returned again to his inability to stand up to his bullies alone. Was that the good kind of compromise that earned him a better life? Or was it the bad kind of compromise that undermined the man he wanted to be?

o o o

By the sixth day of his visit, Blaine determined that there would always be one more museum or monument or landmark to see in Washington, D.C. He and Kurt decided to call the sightseeing to an end that afternoon and settled for spending the day in the cool indoors making a list of all the places they hadn't seen yet so they could start their tradition of visiting one new place every time they came for a visit.

"There is one more place I want to see tonight," Blaine said.

Kurt groaned as he stretched out on the bed. Blaine scooted the pad of paper and pen off the edge and crawled over his boyfriend. Kurt made an interested sound as he wrapped his arms and legs around Blaine.

"I want to take you on a date. There's a musical playing at Ford's Theatre, and I got us tickets," he said, clearly very pleased with himself.

"As in Lincoln's Ford's Theatre."

"The very same. It's hardly a ten minute walk from here, so I went over to the box office while you were doing whatever you do when your feet hurt after walking around all day and bought tickets."

Kurt pulled him down into a kiss. "Hmm. You know I can't resist a good musical even if there is the looming cloud of Presidential assassination hanging over the theatre where it's being staged. What is it, by the way?"

"It's a surprise."

"That probably means I won't like it."

Blaine kept him quiet for the next half hour with kisses, and then the alarm on his phone went off reminding him they needed get ready for the theatre. Burt and Carole waved goodbye without questioning why they were running out of the house at seven o'clock at night. Blaine didn't know if that was the result of their immense trust or Kurt being eighteen and so close to leaving for college.

The horizon faded to a dull, glowing orange like even the sky had to cool off after such a balmy day as they made their way into the theatre. The ushers directed them to their seats in orchestra left. They weren't the best seats, but not the worst either, and provided no one too tall sat in front of them, they would be able to see the whole show perfectly, if at an angle.

The American flag and bunting on a box drew Blaine's eye up and over to the right. A shudder passed up as his spine. A President had been assassinated in that box for daring to decree that all men were equal.

"Are you okay?" Kurt asked. "You're shivering. Do you want my jacket?"

"No, I'm not cold. I'm just thinking about Newton."

Kurt's eyes flicked up to the Presidential box. "Lincoln."

Blaine couldn't entirely keep a grin off his lips. "No, I mean Isaac Newton. He said, 'If I have seen farther, it is by standing on the shoulders of giants.'"

Kurt understood without needing more explanation. He leaned in close and looped his arm through Blaine's as the lights went down and curtain came up. Whether he liked the political biography or not – and it certainly was no _Wicked_ – he never said. The whole walk home, and later as they crawled under the covers, he listened to Blaine's explanation of how very deeply it had moved him.

"It was such a miscarriage of justice, and it's still happening. Look at the Prop 8 trial. It's despicable." He slammed his fist down on the pillow. "I wish there was something I could do about it."

"Blaine. Hey." Kurt rubbed a hand over his shoulder and pulled him into an embrace. He settled into being the little spoon. "It's not like you're sitting around doing nothing. You're doing a hell of a lot more than most teenagers."

"Then why do I feel like it isn't enough?"

Kurt didn't have an answer.

o o o

At breakfast on Tuesday morning, Burt made a surprise announcement after getting a text on his phone which Carole chided him for answering at the table. In addition to breaking a house rule, it usually meant he ended up talking about work the rest of the meal.

"I hope no one has plans tonight, because you're in for a treat if you stick with me and Carole."

"And what if I have plans?" Carole asked, snatching away the syrup and handing him the sugar free bottle.

"Then I'll take my other wife who lets me have real syrup on my French toast," he deadpanned.

Carole almost responded, but caught sight of the boys at the table and changed her mind. She motioned for Burt to go ahead and let them know what exciting thing they were meant to be doing tonight.

"I don't want to give away too much because I want to surprise you."

"What's the attire?" Kurt asked.

"Formal."

"Your definition or mine?"

"Well, don't dress up like the Titanic's going down, but you know, nice. And dress Finn too."

"Haaa," Finn said, with his mouth full of French toast. He looked panicked, but Burt didn't back down, and ten hours later he found himself standing in the middle of Kurt's bedroom while he and Blaine debated which bowtie would look best on him.

"But I don't like bowties," Finn complained. "It feels like I'm being strangled by a nerd."

They wrestled him into classic black tie when he put up too much of a fuss, but Kurt made him wear a silver tie clip etched with flower patterns as retribution for not sucking it up and dealing with a bowtie. He fiddled with it on the whole ride to wherever this mystery event was taking place, but knew better than to moan about the girly accessory after he'd put Kurt in a mood.

It wasn't until they turned onto Pennsylvania Avenue that the possibility occurred to Blaine, and not until the black wrought iron fence flashed by the window that he dared to seriously consider it. He heard Kurt suck in a sharp breath at the same time the White House appeared between the fence bars, lit up with flood lights and framed by a perfectly green lawn.

"Oh my God," Blaine laughed giddily. "Are we seriously going to a party at the White House?"

"It's a reception for the LGBT Equality Caucus," Burt explained. "I figured bringing you two to a fancy party in a room full of friends would be a nice way to end our week together. It might not be as hoity-toity as some of the parties you'll go to when you're big stars on Broadway, but none of those parties will be in the White House, so I figure that makes up for it."

"Dad!" Kurt exclaimed. "This is so …. Thank you."

Kurt and Blaine's hands found each other while they peered through the tinted glass at the White House growing in size as they approached. The driver paused at a gate, and then pulled around the circle drive. He opened the door and stood aside to let the family climb out. Kurt squeezed Blaine's hand as he helped him out of the car.

The security checkpoint inside was the most thorough Blaine had ever seen. They presented photo identification, signed in, and were wanded by a solemn man in a black suit who looked tough enough to break Coach Beiste in half. There were men in black suits standing at intervals along the wall. Secret Service, Blaine's brain supplied, before it proceeded to freak the hell out because Secret Service in attendance meant the President might make an appearance (and probably would after his speech this morning and the legislative agenda for next week).

Burt apparently knew his way around the White House – that too sent Blaine's mind reeling – because he led them directly to a large room where guests mingled in their finery. Images from _Vogue_ flashed in Blaine's mind as he took in the exquisite dresses and tailored suits. The white room was lit brightly with yellow toned lights glittering off a crystal chandelier and the ornate frames of originals from American masters.

"We'll let you kids mingle," Burt said.

He led Carole away towards a group smiling and waving in their direction. Finn, predictably, edged towards the buffet table. Kurt and Blaine exchanged glances mingled with excitement and nervousness. Kurt snagged two glasses of champagne from a passing waiter and passed one to Blaine, who instantly panicked.

"Kurt! We can't break the law _in the White House!_ Anyway, how do you not remember the bad things that have happened when I've drunk before?"

"Just one drink," Kurt said, "for nerves and for luck."

He raised his glass and lifted his eyebrows pointedly until Blaine stopped glancing around anxiously at the Secret Service agents like they were going to body tackle him and cart him off to federal prison and raised his glass too.

"To our first taste of high society where we undoubtedly belong," Kurt said.

They clinked their champagne flutes together and drank the slightly bitter liquid. Kurt had the glass out of Blaine's hand and discarded on a table before he could down the whole drink and make a fool of himself. He was immensely grateful.

"Now, let's go mingle with the people who will one day call us and beg for reserve seats to our shows whenever they come to New York."

They made their way around the room, admiring the paintings and furniture that looked more like artwork than seats, but it quickly became clear that neither of them knew how to actually insert themselves into conversation at a fancy reception. They clung to each other a little tighter as they edged towards the walls.

"I need another drink," Kurt muttered.

"So do I, but I don't want to inappropriately make out with anyone in the White House."

A few nearby heads turned, and heat flooded Blaine's cheeks. Kurt tried to laugh off the comment as a joke, but it came out too high and a little hysterical. They changed courses sharply and charged away from the observers of their humiliation.

"Oh my God, Blaine, we're terrible at this!" He shook his head furiously. "My NYADA orientation is in two weeks. If I don't figure out how to start conversations with snotty rich people Rachel will do all the talking and then I'll never have a chance in hell at making friends in New York."

"You could start by not thinking of them as 'snotty rich people'."

They turned sharply to see a pretty young woman in a pale orange dress with a head of dark curls falling over one shoulder. She held out her hand to Kurt and then Blaine. She introduced herself as Charlotte.

"I'm Kurt Hummel, and this is my boyfriend, Blaine Anderson."

"So your eye healed all right?" she asked.

The question caught Blaine off guard, but he managed to stammer out an affirmative.

"Good. I know Burt was worried about you. That's all he talked about in our first meeting. That and how we needed stronger anti-bullying laws because things like that shouldn't happen and we can't afford to let them on our watch."

Blaine didn't know what to say. To think that Burt came to Washington, D.C. with an agenda inspired by what he, Blaine, had gone through boggled his mind.

"It's a topic my dad has always been passionate about," Kurt said.

He fell into the conversation so easily, like nothing about their surroundings or circumstance of the discussion surprised him at all. Maybe it was that Kurt just knew his father better or maybe they'd talked about it before, but Blaine had the sense that being in this city hadn't changed Kurt in the same way it had changed him.

Blaine's eyes darted around the room at the men and women engaged in intense or humorous conversations. Despite being invited to join them in so many ways, he felt like the outsider.

"No, unfortunately not," Kurt pouted. "Blaine is a senior this year."

"What are your year-after-next college plans then?" Charlotte asked.

Blaine swallowed thickly.

"I'm still considering."

The words 'drama school' wouldn't come out. To say them while surrounded by these public servants who worked tirelessly day after day to win him equal status and protections under the law felt like a violation of their dedication. While they stood up and faced a world divided between acceptance and hate, he danced around a choir room singing silly love songs to the only people in the world he knew who accepted him.

He'd never felt so ashamed or shallow.


	3. Spring 2013

**Spring 2013**

Cold rain pinged against the windows and mixed with the cries of pleasure and murmured affections from the two boys tangled in the thin sheet. Blaine's shaking arms gave out, and he collapsed onto the sweaty chest below him. Kurt's legs slipped off his shoulders, and they lay splayed out and panting into each other while their hearts quieted in their chest.

"Oh my God," Blaine murmured into Kurt's skin. "I've missed you so much."

Kurt laughed loosely and turned his head to the suitcases just inside the open doorway. They'd done a decent job of keeping their hands to themselves at the airport and the two hour drive back to Lima. They'd even managed to make it upstairs, but the sight of Kurt's bed had been their undoing. Blaine's jeans had ended up on top of the dresser, and a popped button lay on top of the red suitcase that had been knocked over.

"Let's never go this long without sex again."

"Deal."

They cleaned up at Kurt's insistence and cuddled for hours as the sun set, turning the gray March day to night. With Burt and Carole in Washington, D.C. for another two days yet and Finn on Spring Break with friends, they had the house to themselves and intended to put it to good use. Blaine still had school, but checking out entirely for one week wouldn't hurt his chances of meeting the requirements in the conditional acceptance letter from his college of choice.

Last fall when Blaine applied to colleges, he and Kurt had promised not to discuss names. Blaine had been so supportive of Kurt going to NYADA, even though New York was ten hours away, and Kurt wanted to return the gesture. They'd talked about plans for New York, but Kurt promised he wouldn't hold Blaine to anything. He loved Blaine, but he wanted to respect him too, and he couldn't do that if he thought Blaine was settling for something less than his best.

"Artie is covering for me tonight. If my parents call, which they won't, he's saying I'm staying with him so we can work on our senior research project all night and tomorrow. So glad you came home on a Friday."

"Hmm. We have to come up with a really, really good thank you present for him. Maybe some designer driving gloves."

Blaine chuckled into Kurt's chest and let the sound of the rain and his loose muscles lull him into sleep. They woke again at one in the morning for round two, and again at seven which started a whole naked day of sex, cuddles, and showers in various combinations.

"I have to sleep in my own bed tonight, but I told my parents you're coming home tomorrow so they'll expect me to be gone."

"Come over as soon as you wake up." Kurt kissed him deeply. "I don't want to waste a minute of this week."

They texted through most of the night, and Blaine arrived bright and early. Kurt tugged him inside, pushed him up against the back of the door, and dropped to his knees. Blaine didn't complain. After, they lay tangled up in each other in the entry panting and giggling at their hormones.

"We'd better get this out of our system now, because Rachel and I have a no-sex-in-shared-rooms rule that she's only violated once, so we get a freebie, but that's it."

Blaine went still for a moment, and then pushed on Kurt's shoulder so he could get up. Kurt whined, but agreed to get cleaned up and stay dressed. When he came out of the bathroom, Blaine had two mugs of steaming coffee, and he'd gone out to sit on the porch swing. Rain splattered on the waterlogged grass and painted the deck dark, but the awning protected them from most of the rainstorm. Kurt shivered and cuddled up next to his boyfriend.

"Should we talk about whatever's on your mind now? Or wait until just before I leave?"

Blaine shrugged. "I don't want to potentially ruin our week, but I don't want to send you back to New York upset either."

"Then let's talk about it now so that if I am upset, we can work it out this week with more talks."

Blaine grinned. He loved that about him and Kurt. Whatever their differences or disputes, they believed that talking things through could solve any problem. Sometimes they snapped or exchanged harsh words like any other couple, but they fought fair and talked it out.

"I picked a college, and I think it's not one you're expecting."

The serious tone told Kurt this wasn't a cute conversation they could cuddle their way through. He shifted up to put an inch between their thighs, but the hands not holding their coffee mugs remained linked and rested on their legs.

"I'm not going to a performing arts school or majoring in music or acting."

Kurt kept his head down and nodded. "I figured. Since last summer you've stopped talking about Julliard and NYADA, except when you ask about my classes. What are you going to study?"

"Public Affairs, and then Law."

Kurt's poker face slipped, and his brows came together in consternation. They had talked about this before when Kurt had asked if he needed help with audition videos. Blaine had hedged, and then finally admitted he was considering a few other majors too. Blaine didn't know why his choice of major surprised everyone. He talked about public policy issues all the time.

Blaine shifted around on the swing, making it rock, while he huddled down into his McKinley hoodie. He pulled his hand free of Kurt's and wrapped his arms around his stomach. "Why are you upset? It's my major."

"You said before that you think you could be a performer, but you're not sure if you wanted to be. Is that still true? Is that why you're declaring public affairs?"

"Of course it is."

Kurt sighed deeply and twisted the coffee mug around in his palms. "Are you sure? Because I've been thinking about it, and it kind of feels like this all started when my dad ran for Congress. If it's my dad you're trying to impress, you've already done it just by being yourself. And if it's your dad –"

Blaine stood up abruptly, leaving Kurt to swing alone until he set his feet down firmly on the deck. Blaine stood at the railing with his back to Kurt and the splashing rain spraying over his face and hair. He hated this turn in the conversation because it always came back to this eventually.

"I don't know how many times I can tell you this, but not everything is about my daddy issues. I've been considering law for a while now, and yes, your dad's campaign did put the idea in my head, but I'm doing this for me, not for anyone else. I know it's difficult for you to understand, Kurt, but not everyone who can sing and act wants to do it for a living."

Kurt stayed on the swing and gave Blaine his space to work out his frustration by digging his nails into the varnished deck railing. The flecks of water dropping onto his face kept him grounded in the moment.

"You're right. It is difficult for me, especially when it's someone who is so talented and who so obviously loves performing. So explain it to me, Blaine."

Blaine turned around and rested his back against the railing. Kurt waited patiently with the crease in his brow gone. He'd set the coffee mug on the floor and twisted his hands in his lap. He looked curious rather than judgmental. The tension in Blaine's shoulders melted away.

"I do love performing, and without sounding too conceited, I think I'm pretty good at it. When I'm on stage, I feel accepted, which is all I've ever really wanted." He shook his head. "And that's so messed up because when I'm on stage, I'm anyone but myself. But when I'm working on the campaign or debating politics and I make a really great point and make someone broaden their worldview even just a little bit, I feel proud of myself. I feel like I did something worthwhile.

"And I'm not saying performing isn't, because art makes our culture. I really respect artists who make our world a more beautiful place by expressing themselves. If performing and creating makes them – makes you – proud of what you're doing with your life, then you absolutely should do it. But that's not, and never was, what performing is to me."

Kurt lifted his brows in consideration. "I can't argue with integrity. I'll miss watching you perform, but now that I know you don't feel the same way I do on stage, I don't think it holds as much allure for me anyway. So what college did you pick?"

Blaine breathed out deeply through his nose and turned to consider the puddles growing in the backyard. He pushed off from the railing eventually and came to sit next to Kurt again. He covered both of his boyfriend's hands in his.

"I don't think I should tell you right now. I'm not running away from performing because I'm scared or insecure. Before I tell you, I need you to really believe this is what I want. Otherwise, you won't understand. You'll be upset, and that will make me upset."

"I do believe that. But if you want me to take some time and really let it soak in, I will."

"I think that would be best. Thank you."

o o o

Blaine logged on to Skype at seven o'clock and started on his homework while he waited for Kurt to call him. Before Kurt had left for New York last fall, they'd discussed how to stay in touch. They didn't want to hold each other back from enjoying themselves with other friends because that would only cause resentment in the long run, so the seven o'clock weeknight Skype date had been born. Blaine was usually home from getting coffee with his friends in New Directions, and Kurt was only thinking about getting ready to go out with his NYADA friends (or heading over to the library for some serious cramming depending on the week).

Blaine accepted the call when it came through. Kurt's slightly pixelated image filled up his screen with an infectious smile he returned. He always got this way when he talked to Kurt. The rest of the troubles in the world melted away. It had been difficult adjusting to not being physically together, but they'd made it work by always keeping their Skype dates, using school holidays to their full advantage, and keeping ego out of the equation. He didn't let himself get jealous over all the amazing things Kurt got to do in New York, and Kurt didn't mope about missing New Directions.

"Spring Break went way too fast. I miss you already," Kurt pouted.

He had been back in New York for two weeks with another six to go before spring semester ended. Blaine's Spring Break started next week, but his parents wouldn't allow him to go to New York. They claimed this year would probably be their last family vacation for a while, so they were going skiing. At least he would get a week with Cooper.

"I miss you too, and I've been sulking to let my parents know it."

"Will you be able to Skype when you're in Colorado?"

"Definitely. The slopes close a little before sundown. Although the time difference might mean our regular date is right in the middle of dinner."

"That's all right. We can adjust the time. As long as I get to talk to you," Kurt said. "So how was your day?"

They talked about everything and nothing, and then Kurt insisted Blaine let him help pack only the most fashionable of outfits to wear around the ski lodge so he unplugged his laptop and took it over to the closet to show Kurt some of the sweaters he'd been thinking of packing.

Before they disconnected, they decided to leave their Skype date at seven o'clock Eastern, and Blaine would adjust accordingly since his vacation meant he had more flexible time anyway. Cooper would have to wait to drag him all over the ski resort, but their parents would waive his curfew with his big brother around anyway.

The conversation gave Blaine hope that his college plans wouldn't cause quite the stir he'd feared they might. He still hadn't shared with Kurt where he'd been accepted, but he would after Spring Break. As it turned out, Cooper was the first to hear.

o o o

They sat on the ski slope with their skis off and propped up in a snow bank. Hats and the wind had made Cooper's curls go wild, and Blaine had dispensed with the hair gel entirely knowing his curls would break free by midmorning anyway. They looked so alike in their almost matching ski gear, sunglasses, and wavy hair.

Cooper whistled. "Wow, Blaine. That is a seriously impressive school. I am so proud of you." Blaine ducked his head to hide his elated grin, and his big brother clasped him on the shoulder. "So that's something a little different than what you'd talked about before. I'll bet you get a new car as a graduation present. Or maybe a trip across Europe this summer. Whatever it is, it's going to trump my computer."

"They don't know. They think I'm still weighing my options."

"What does Kurt think about all the new issues this poses?"

"He doesn't know either. Before I drop a bomb on him, I want him to know this is my passion. I didn't want any lingering thoughts that I'm settling or that this is my backup plan. This is the only plan, and I need him to know that."

Cooper nodded. "That's smart. Because this is going to hurt a lot."

"I know. Do you think I did the right thing accepting that offer?"

"Is it the best school for you with the best opportunities to do what you love and give you the credentials you need to get into the best law school? Can you justify your choice with solid facts and sound logic?"

Blaine nodded.

"Then you did the right thing. I know it's tough when you're trying to make these decisions and you're considering the person you love. You switched high schools so you could be with Kurt every day, but college is different. I followed Chelsea to college because she had her heart set on one school, and I had my heart set on her. You know how that ended."

"Kurt said something like that to me last year when I transferred to McKinley. He didn't want me to resent him."

Cooper considered the middle distance for a few minutes. "I'm proud of you, Blaine. Not just for getting in, but for making the decision to go there. It's really brave. I hope Kurt can see that, but if he doesn't, I hope you can see that he's not the one for you. A person who truly loves you will never try to hold you back."

Blaine's face twitched up into a smile, and then he laugh. "Wow. I didn't know you did inspirational, Cooper. Anyway, Kurt's not going to have a problem with this. We're Kurt-and-Blaine. Nothing can come between us."

o o o

None of the teachers at McKinley wanted to come back from Spring Break, that much was clear on Monday morning. Blaine spent most of the day texting Kurt under his desk and blushing to his ears when the texts got risqué in the afternoon. Kurt must have been in a boring lecture to start sexting in class. He was right, and Kurt ranted about it during their Skype date.

"You'd think a professor at drama school would know something about performance. Even if the material is dry, that's no excuse for the delivery to suffer."

"Some people," Blaine agreed, shaking his head.

"So I've been trying to find my patience, but I can't wait any longer. Will you please tell me which college you're going to? Rachel has been going crazy trying to figure it out, and she thinks I'm holding out on her, so she's started a giant spy campaign among New Directions. You're being watched, if you didn't realize."

Blaine laughed. "It's funny that you blame that on Rachel, because I have reason to believe Operation Bowtie is actually a product of your mastermind."

"You even know its code name? This is unacceptable. Heads will roll for divulging this information."

They teased each other with no other point or purpose in mind for several more minutes. Blaine loved these dates when they were as carefree as ever, and it made him worry about what would happen when he revealed his college. He believed what he had said to Cooper, that he and Kurt could survive anything, but it gave him no pleasure to deliver news that would upset Kurt.

"But, seriously, Blaine. I really do believe that your passion is activism, and I'm one hundred perfect behind you going to law school."

Blaine saw the truth shining through in Kurt's eyes and the smiling set of his mouth. His resolve wavered. The name seemed to roll backwards from the tip of his tongue and lodge in his throat. If he said it, that smile would fade and those bright eyes would go dull. He could change his mind yet. He could say another name, and the only person who ever had to know was Cooper. Cooper had called him brave. Would he think the opposite if Blaine changed his mind? And was being a coward worth it to have Kurt with him every day?

He swallowed.

"I … I don't know."

Kurt's head cocked to the side. "What? I thought you'd already accepted."

"I – I did, but … I don't know if I want to go there now. It's so far away from you."

On screen, Kurt's smile flickered into a tight-lipped quiver just shy of a frown, and he turned away suddenly so Blaine could only see his angular profile. Through the pixilation, he couldn't see if his eyes held moisture, but he blinked rapidly. Blaine pressed his lips together and dropped his eyes to his lap.

"I didn't realize you were applying to colleges outside of New York."

The hurt in Kurt's voice cut like a knife. He felt like he'd betrayed the man he loved. All his well-planned arguments about getting the best education possible and picking the best school for him shattered to pieces in the wake of his upset boyfriend.

"I applied to a few not very far outside the city. But this one, it was a whim. I really didn't think I'd get in, but I did and with an academic scholarship. The more I started thinking about it and visualizing it, the more I realized how perfect it is for me. The only downside is that it's not in New York with you."

Kurt swallowed thickly, but could only get out one word. "Where?"

Blaine let the silence stretch until he couldn't anymore.

"Stanford."

Kurt started to cry.

o o o

At seven o'clock the next night, Kurt didn't log in to Skype. Blaine waited for an hour before he shut down his computer, huddled under his comforter, and let the hurt work its way from his chest into his tear ducts. He skipped school the next day claiming he was sick. He had a massive headache from crying, and he curled up in bed clutching his twisted stomach. He couldn't stand to watch Kurt's grayed out name on Skype again, so he stayed in bed until well after seven o'clock.

The next morning he tried to stay home sick again, but his mom threatened him with the doctor whom he could not fool, so he pulled on the first thing he found in his closet and trudged into school looking like a zombie with his hair badly gelled and red-rimmed eyes. Glee club exchanged worried looks and handled him with care after he begged Artie to take his solo on a Katy Perry song, and Mr. Schue actually sent him to the nurse's office where he gratefully curled up on a cot and went to sleep until she woke him up, took his temperature, and sent him back to class when she surmised it was boy trouble.

He stayed off Skype again that night until he got a text message from Sugar asking him to sign on and chat with her. He said no politely, but she was insistent. She probably wanted to show him her puppy to cheer him up, so he pulled himself out of bed and logged in. He realized it was a trick when he saw that Kurt's name showed he was online, but Sugar was not.

_Sorry, B. It was that serious. –Sugar_

He imagined Kurt got an identical message. He still debated what to do when a message popped up saying he had an incoming call from Kurt. He chewed on his bottom lip and twisted the hem of his sweatshirt between his fingers. He knew he looked a mess, but he wanted to talk to Kurt. He accepted the call.

Kurt looked as awful as he felt. His hair had been done hastily in the side swept way he did when he didn't want to bother with the hairdryer and hairspray, and he had on the McKinley sweats Blaine had sent to New York with him. The sight of his boyfriend looking a wreck made him hurt twice as badly.

"I won't go to Stanford," Blaine blurted out. "I still have time to pick another school."

Kurt squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head so quickly it blurred on the webcam. "Don't say that. You can't change your plans for me or you'll end up resenting me for it. We talked about this when you transferred to McKinley."

The silence between them was deafening. This was the point when Blaine was supposed to say he'd pick another school because he wanted to be closer to the man he loved. But they both knew he wanted Stanford too.

"This really caught me off guard," Kurt said. "I know I haven't said it yet, but I'm really proud of you for getting into Stanford." His voice wobbled on the name. "I just … Blaine, I'm so hurt and confused. I miss you so much all the time, but being together next year kept me going, and now you're talking about moving to California. Do you not feel the same about us anymore? Is that why you're okay moving across the country?"

Blaine choked on the sobs clogged in his throat. "I love you, and I still want you to wear my promise ring. I'm not okay with it, but I thought we could survive it because we'd have our Skype dates and we'd see each other every vacation."

Kurt went quiet on the screen again. He turned towards the window overlooking a patch of New York skyline and ran a hand through his hair. Blaine sat huddled up in his chair, too confused and hurt himself to know where to steer the conversation. Kurt turned back to the screen after a minute.

"We had a plan, and I thought you wanted it as much as I do. Now I find out that you applied to Stanford without telling me and that you've considered a life there. It scares me because maybe it means you love me less now."

"I love you more," he answered earnestly. "We've been long distance for almost a year, and we're still strong. I have that much faith in us."

"You have four years of undergrad plus three of law school, which I'm assuming you also want to do there. That's seven years of long distance, Blaine." Kurt said quietly. "Do you really want that kind of a relationship? Do you really think any relationship is that strong?"

Blaine's mouth worked without sound for several minutes. "I … I thought after you graduate in three years ..."

"I'll be auditioning for roles here in New York."

The truth behind the words hit him like a sucker punch. His dream and Kurt's dream lay on opposite coasts. Kurt would never leave New York because everything he wanted was there. As much as Blaine wanted to go to a top five school and live in the heart of a thriving and proud LGBT community, Stanford would never have Kurt.

"We could try," he said feebly.

Kurt was crying again. Blaine could see his red-rimmed eyes and the twin tear tracks now through the pixilation. The sight pulled at his heart. He breathed harshly to fight the tears building in his own eyes and lost the battle.

"I'm sure we will, and we'll make it work for a while. But then we'll run out of money to fly across the country to see each other. We'll resent going solo while our friends are coupling up on nights out. We'll fight, and we'll break up, and the only thing we'll have done is torture ourselves for however many years we hold on too tightly."

The sound of Kurt's tears filled the silence, but Blaine couldn't watch the screen and his boyfriend's sorrowful face. The next move was Blaine's. He could go to college at his top choice or he could have Kurt, but not both.

"Don't tell me what you decide until August," Kurt requested. "If we only have this summer, I don't want to know about it."

o o o

Everything changed after that night. They still Skyped every weeknight at seven o'clock and talked about their day, but by unspoken agreement they made their own life choices without input or even acknowledgment from each other. Blaine found out from Rachel that she and Kurt had renewed their lease for next year, but were subletting over the summer while they were in Ohio, and Blaine went about making college plans without Kurt.

He tried to tell Kurt once which college he'd chosen, but he'd done the equivalent of shoving his fingers in his ears and singing. This time, Blaine did not go to Burt for help. It hurt too much to admit that his boyfriend, once his best friend in the world, knew less about his life than mere acquaintances at school.

Kurt and Rachel came home on a Tuesday in May. Blaine found a reason to skip school and go to the airport even though Rachel's dads had offered to drive Kurt back to Lima. They met again around the baggage claim, as they had done back in March, but there was no quivering restraint when they met, no desire to fling their arms around each other and crash their lips together. They moved in for a hug haltingly, hesitatingly.

Unspoken words and unshared thoughts had come between them.

Blaine wondered if it would go away, the new awkwardness that had crept up between them. On the drive home, they held hands over the center console and sang along to pop songs on the radio. The emotion didn't quite register as they sang along with Pink.

Back at the Hummels, empty until the weekend when Burt and Carole came home, they took Kurt's things up to his room and unpacked with showtunes playing from Kurt's iPod providing an eclectic backdrop to the silence between them. Blaine kept his eyes trained on the clothes going into Kurt's drawers. He didn't want to know if his boyfriend's eyes held love or indifference. The muscles in his face fought to hold back the anguish. He wondered if Kurt didn't notice because he couldn't read Blaine anymore or if he wasn't watching.

A pair of hands skimmed up Blaine's back, making him start. He relaxed into the touch when Kurt pressed a wet kiss to the back of his neck. The crisp white undershirt flowed from his fingers and landed back in the suitcase as a puddle of cloth. Kurt took his hand and led him over to the bed. They perched on the end, fingers intertwined and eyes dancing.

"We had a really serious disagreement," Kurt said. "Now we're trying to figure out where we stand. That doesn't mean I don't love you, Blaine."

"I love you too."

He snaked his hand up into Kurt's hair, and he pulled his boyfriend into a needy, sloppy kiss. Finally, they fell into their rhythm. They shifted up on the bed, pulling off clothes as they moved and letting their bodies show each other how much they still wanted to be together.

But after the sweat had cooled and the breathing returned to normal, Kurt wanted to clean up too soon, and Blaine felt the need to pull on his clothes too quickly. They'd had sex, but hardly shared a moment of intimacy. Blaine knew he should want more with Kurt, but it felt wrong. It felt as if he'd done this with a stranger.

They circled each other when they were both dressed, confusion and hesitancy in their eyes and both so obviously reluctant to say what they knew. In the end, it was not the distance that drove them apart, but the silence. Perhaps it had begun last fall when they'd promised not to discuss Blaine's college plans or maybe only the more recent request for silence. Whenever it had begun, they realized their fatal error now.

"It's not too late to start talking again," Blaine said.

Kurt looked away with a firm set to his jaw. "Okay. You're right. It's not. Where are you going to college?"

"Why do you want to know now?"

Kurt searched for the right words with great difficulty. Blaine could see him writing and rewriting what he wanted to say, and he waited for what he'd always known would come, but the gravity of it still surprised him when it did.

"Because it's going to take so much work to get back to where we were, and I can't do it if my heart's going to be ripped apart in August anyway."

Blaine went quiet for a long time. There was so much silence between them.

"It comes down to an ultimatum? New York or nothing?"

"You're the one who changed all our plans."

"You're the one who asked us to stop talking."

The truth of the leveled accusations stung, and although they'd been spoken in calm, quiet voices the words might have been screamed in the heat of the moment for the shocking impact they had. They reeled away from each other, and the unconscious physical reaction provided the conclusion to what they'd had. The tears came before the words.

"I don't think it really matters where I'm going to college. We're not Kurt-and-Blaine anymore."

"I know."

o o o

Graduation came more suddenly than Blaine had expected. His last few weeks as a high school student felt aimless. With his college plans decided and his academic record ensuring admission no matter what he did, he'd coasted along through final exams. Only Nationals with glee club had changed up his routine of pointless nights watching bad reality television to distract him from the knowledge that Kurt was fifteen minutes away and no longer his to hold.

He stood in line adjusting his cap and trying to remember which side the tassel hung on when a too familiar voice drew his attention away from the double doors of the gymnasium where family and friends filed onto the bleachers.

"Good luck up there, Valedictorian."

"Thank you, sir."

Burt clapped Blaine on the shoulder and squeezed. He wore a nicely cut navy suit today complete with a pocket square for his speech as the guest speaker. Blaine put on a brave face. He'd missed Kurt's family more than he liked to admit. It was difficult sitting at the table with his parents hearing them speak but not talk to each other. Now that he knew what familial warmth felt like, he could only imagine their marriage as inescapably lonely. It cast even more of a pall on his family.

"I haven't seen you around in a while. I haven't gotten to ask about your summer plans."

Blaine shrugged. "Usually I perform at amusement parks, but since I've decided on law I probably should find a job to keep myself busy since I don't have … other plans." He and Kurt had had a lot of summer plans, but now he had three months of empty time to fill before he could get out of Ohio.

"What about an internship?"

"Sure. Who's hiring?"

"I am. I have one spot left on my staff, and I'm determined to hire a promising young talent from my district. I think you fit the bill. It's unpaid, but you're welcome in one of our guest rooms, and of course we'll feed you too. It'd look great on your CV. What do you say to a summer in D.C.?"

"Thank you, sir. That's very kind. But I know Kurt's told you what happened."

Burt exhaled sharply and ran a hand over his bald head. "Yeah, he told me about half the story. I don't need to know the other half to know that he thinks he did something wrong, and, kid, your face is an open book. You think you did something too. I'm not trying to get in the middle of that. What I'm doing here is asking you if you want a job that will give you a leg up on all those Stanford kids."

"Columbia."

Burt's expression shifted. He looked away and rubbed a hand over his mouth.

"You –?"

"Yeah."

"Does Kurt –?"

"No, and I don't want him to. He wouldn't want to know either. I don't want to ask you to lie, but please don't tell him unless he asks directly."

Burt didn't say anything for a long time, and Blaine stared at the line of grout between the tiles under his shoes. The noise in the gymnasium redoubled as the hour neared eleven o'clock. Through the small rectangular windows, Blaine spotted Finn waving at someone down below. It turned out to be Puck.

"You have to take the job," Burt said at last. "If you're going Ivy, you need an advantage. I'll talk to your parents if you think that might be a problem."

"Thank you, sir. But I'm not dating your son anymore. You're not obligated to look out for me any more than any of the other kids in this district. I don't know if it would be right now that Kurt and I …. I don't think I can say yes."

Burt chuckled darkly. "I've never been obligated to look out for you, but I've liked you from the first time you strutted into my tire shop and told me to give my son the talk. Did you know just a couple weeks before that Kurt told me he wanted to be able to talk to me about those kinds of things? That didn't motivate me to do the right thing, but you did. If that's not the sign of a fantastic activist in the making, I don't know what is."

Blaine wanted to say yes so badly, to spend time around Burt and work with his Congressional staff for a whole summer, but he couldn't. It would inevitably put someone in an awkward position.

"I'll let you think about it. You let me know by the end of the day."

Blaine gave his speech to the graduating class of 2013 and walked across the stage to get his diploma and threw his cap in the air with the rest of the graduates. Most of them he would never see again, or else only at holidays when he came to see his parents. A few, the ones in glee club, he hoped would remain his friends for years to come. But he knew too well how friends could turn on each other given the slightest competition among them. He was surprised when Rachel tackled him with a hug after the ceremony. He had thought Kurt got her in the separation. Glee club members current and former passed around the graduates for hugs and making future plans.

"That was quite the speech."

Kurt stood off to the side with his hands in the pockets of his jeans and a slight uplift in the corners of his lips despite his sad eyes. Blaine pushed down the hurt and regret welling up in him. He looked down at the mortarboard in his hand and back up.

"Thank you. I didn't know you were here."

"After listening to so many drafts of your speech, I had to find out which one you ended up using. You make a great Valedictorian. Stanford is lucky to have you."

Blaine drew in a breath. He said nothing. A name would change everything for Kurt, but nothing for Blaine. He'd believed their love had no limits, but Kurt had taught him that even great loves had a breaking point.

"My dad would be lucky to have you on staff too."

"It's a great opportunity, but I can't say yes. Kurt, I don't know if we can be friends or not or if you even want to be. You're my first love. I've felt things for you that will never go away entirely, and they're still so fresh. I need some time."

Kurt nodded slowly. "Me too. That's why I'm going back to New York next week to start summer classes. I won't be in D.C. this summer even if you don't take the internship, but I think you should. Even though we're not together anymore, I still want the very best for you, Blaine. You're my first love too."

Blaine turned away for a moment hoping a breath of air and a blank wall could tame the emotion bringing tears to his eyes. He motioned for Kurt to come closer and slid his arms around his waist. The familiar weight of Kurt's arms around his neck brought a sigh from his lips.

"I don't blame you. And I'll always love you."

"Me either. And me too. Maybe one day we can be friends."

"I hope so. I want to be."


	4. Spring 2016

**Spring 2016**

Blaine huddled down into his coat and scarf as he trudged through the calf-high snowdrifts piling up around the trees on the residential street. This part of the city was always quiet, but at four in the morning with a blanket of snow muffling sounds and soft blue moonlight painting the world it felt more still and solemn than usual.

He truly had no idea why he was awake at four am. Normally, he could sleep through the video game marathon that occupied his living room on the weekends, but tonight his mind wouldn't shut up. He kept starting awake, terrified that it was June and time to sit the LSAT, but he hadn't studied at all. Then he would remember it was only February, but his heart took too long to stop racing. Eventually, he'd gathered up his LSAT practice books and gone looking for a place to study. The apartment was too noisy and the library was closed, so that left the one place he always turned to when he needed some stability in his chaotic life.

The steps of the Hummel's brownstone on E Street had been cleared, which he found odd considering Burt and Carole were in Ohio until Congress came back to session next week, but maybe the sweet elderly gentleman next door had cleaned off the walk again even though it upset Burt to see him working so hard. Blaine fished the key out from under its hiding spot and opened the door. He let the cold air and snow blow in for a moment when he stashed the key again, and then ducked into the warmth of the house with a shiver.

He stomped the snow off his boots and toed them off on the mat, nearly tripping himself as he hopped around to avoid getting his socks wet, and flipped on the entryway light so he could adjust the thermostat. Odd, but someone had set it to seventy-four. Burt and Carole never kept it that high even when they were in town. Although he supposed they might have changed their habits since he'd last been over. Fall semester had taken its toll on him. Now that he was a junior, his course load was heavy on upper levels for his major plus the work he did part-time at Burt's Congressional office. He couldn't remember the last time he'd actually been in this house. He turned the dial down to seventy while he wrestled off his coat and scarf.

His rationalizing failed him when he saw the glowing light coming from the dining room, and he faltered in the hallway. His socks slipped on the hardwood floors as he came to a halt. He thought hard for a minute, but he couldn't imagine Burt or Carole coming to Washington early. Just yesterday Louise had had Blaine fax a ton of legislative agenda pages to the tire shop for Burt to read between servicing cars, and when he'd called with a follow-up, Finn had answered the phone. They'd chatted for a few minutes, specifically about how Finn was not coming to D.C. again unless his parents guilt-tripped him into it. Finn hated the city as much as Blaine loved it.

Blaine snatched a heavy metal block off a side table and edged towards the dining room with the curvy, decorative rectangle – and seriously, where did Kurt find this stuff? – raised over his shoulder like a baseball bat. He saw the cast iron frying pan coming at him from the corner of his eye and ducked just in time. The edge of the solid pan crashed into the wall, sending wallpaper and bits of plaster flying. Blaine turned his face away sharply and squeezed his eyes shut to avoid the lingering dust.

"_Blaine?_"

He blinked his eyes open. His ex-boyfriend – a rightful inhabitant of this house, unlike himself – stood in the kitchen in a pair of George Mason sweats and a bewildered expression with the cast iron pan dripping plaster chunks onto the tile.

"What are you doing sneaking into my house in the middle of the night?"

"Wee hours of the morning, actually. And I wasn't sneaking. I was stomping around."

Kurt huffed at the obviousness of a nefarious person not making such a racket, put the pan back on the stove, and motioned towards the coffee maker dripping into the pot below. Blaine nodded and got the broom and dustpan from the pantry while he poured two mugs.

"You're probably going to have to paint," he said, examining the chipped plaster.

"Thank God. I've always hated this wallpaper."

When he came back from tipping the plaster into the bin, Kurt had a steaming mug of coffee waiting on the countertop. He held out the cinnamon shaker, and then retracted his arm with a rueful grin at Blaine.

"I don't even know if you still take it this way."

"I do."

They drifted over to the dining room table where Kurt had highlighters, note cards, and books filled with Post-It notes strewn across the table. The chair he curled up in was the epicenter of the scholastic mess. Blaine set his own bag onto a clean corner of table and dropped into the chair opposite Kurt.

"You still haven't told me why you're coming into my house unannounced at four in the morning when you presumably have a bed somewhere else in the city," Kurt said.

"My roommates are playing Halo and the library is closed. Why are you here at all? Shouldn't you be in a dance studio or music room in New York preparing to stun a panel of judges and a captive audience with your senior thesis performance?"

Kurt blinked at him over the top of his coffee mug. He swallowed and set it down gingerly away from the sea of books and notes. "I hear about you so often that sometimes I forget we don't talk very much," he said.

Blaine had worked as an intern for Burt for the past three years, ever since the summer after he graduated high school, but he had no idea Burt ever mentioned him outside the office. Burt made it a point not to discuss Kurt's personal life in the office at all, because some intrepid young staffer would undoubtedly turn it into political cannon fodder if he did. They bumped into each other a couple times a year, but always when Blaine was overwhelmed with work and Kurt was on his way to a public event. They were planets orbiting the same star, sometimes coming into alignment, but always moving on too soon.

"I left NYADA." Blaine choked on his coffee, and Kurt offered him a tight-lipped smile. "By the way, that's exactly how I felt when you said you didn't want to be a performer."

Kurt took another sip and let Blaine catch his breath.

"What happened?"

"There's some truth in the saying that the surest way to destroy your passion for acting is to go to drama school. At least, there is for me."

"But you loved it so much your freshman year. You were always talking about …"

Blaine trailed off as the memories returned. Kurt had gushed about New York and his new friends and the apartment he shared with Rachel. (Rachel who hadn't mentioned Kurt leaving NYADA, he realized, which must have killed her, but she'd made a promise not to side with either of her "gays" in the separation and apparently intended to keep it). He hadn't really ever mentioned his classes.

"Oh. So if not Broadway Star, what's your plan now?"

Kurt gestured at the books spread across the table. "A lovely little thing called the LSAT."

Blaine choked on his coffee again. This time Kurt looked amused while he sputtered. "I'm sorry. What? Kurt Hummel is going to become a lawyer?"

"Not exactly. I'm putting my significant acting abilities and witty repartee to good use in the field of public relations. But I don't want to be one of those mindless drones who spins oil spills and insider trading, so I'm going to study law too. Maybe I'll be a press secretary or communications director."

Blaine needed a minute to realign everything he thought he knew about Kurt. "When did this happen?"

"I knew about a year ago, but I finished my junior year anyway. I transferred to George Mason in September. I lost a year's worth of credits, so I'm still a junior, but there are worse things in life than spending five years in college."

"And you're happy with your decision? This is something that fills you with a new passion?"

Kurt nodded. "It always has. Letting loose with a witticism that leaves an audience thinking is my bliss. It reminds me of how much fun I had insulting Sebastian to his face, and Dave before we were friends."

"That's great, Kurt. I'm happy for you."

Kurt looked down into the dregs of his coffee mug. His slumped shoulders and arm wrapped around his knees made him look so much younger. It reminded Blaine of study dates – although he hadn't known that's what they were – right after Kurt had transferred to Dalton.

"I guess it's cosmic retribution," he said quietly. "I berate you for your plans changing, and then mine do an about face. Blaine, I'm –"

"No. Hey." Blaine put aside his coffee and stretched across the table to place his hand over Kurt's. "Let's not do this, okay? We've always beat ourselves up whenever we hurt each other, and there's really no need for it this time." Blaine sighed heavily. "I got a dose of cosmic retribution myself a year ago. There was someone I really cared about who changed his plans on me, and I thought we'd be all right, but the distance was too much."

"Where he is now, this guy crazy enough to move away from you?"

"Ironically, Stanford."

"Fucking Stanford."

They laughed darkly while their forgotten coffee cooled among the piles of LSAT practice tests and the snow piled up on the window ledges. The air between them felt cleared. Big and dramatic wasn't their style and never had been.

"So, Blaine." Kurt sat up straighter and cleared away the detritus of his study session. He folded his hands on the table and leaned forward seriously. "Let's talk about how an agnostic gay man justifies attending a Catholic university."

"Are you asking me to debate?" Blaine asked, his face scrunching up with his eager smile. "Because, you know, I have been doing this political stuff a lot longer than you."

"But have you gotten better at thinking on your feet? Or are we going to have another demonstration of what happens when I win?"

Blaine sucked in a sharp breath, and Kurt's cheeks burned. He believed the quip had been innocent and not a come on, but it colored their debate and the way their eyes met across the table. It was the reason they both jolted when their socked feet touched under the table and trembled with the electricity coursing between them.

But the reason they ended up on top of the dining room table, kicking LSAT books to the floor and shoving sweats down to their thighs while kissing messily with their hips grinding together was because Kurt won the debate and he knew exactly what that did to Blaine.

"Fuck, you always were the best," Blaine cried.

His hips slammed forward too fast into the circle of Kurt's fist wrapped around them both, and he wasn't going to last, but he didn't care because Kurt had won and he had Kurt under him again and even though this was hot and fast and rough, the spark of intimacy that had been so lacking the last time they'd had sex was back.

"No one's ever made me feel like you do," Kurt said.

His words caught on panted breaths and were interrupted by kisses. He looked so debauched and desperate beneath Blaine. His hand squeezed tighter, pressing their cocks closer together almost painfully. A thrill passed up his spine, because Blaine had meant the best debater, but that interpretation was true too.

Blaine came first over Kurt's hand and onto his sweatshirt rucked up to his chest, and the come dripping between Kurt's fingers and spreading over their cocks meant Kurt had won again. Just to be a little mean – and Blaine knew that because he knew Kurt – he didn't let go of Blaine's softening dick until he came too.

"You're such an ass sometimes," Blaine murmured.

He ducked his head and pressed his lips to Kurt's. He kissed back eagerly, loose-limbed and humming happily into Blaine's mouth.

"And coming all over my sweatshirt from a public, state-funded school wasn't some kind of political protest?"

"Just another example of you winning."

They laughed into each other's skin like they were teenagers again and had fumbled a move they were trying for the first time, as they often had done, though they hated to admit it. They climbed off the table and cleaned up in the downstairs bathroom. Kurt made breakfast while Blaine picked up the LSAT books and smoothed down the bent pages. Blaine laughed when Kurt brought out the kitchen sanitizer to wipe down the table.

"Shut up. By the way, you owe me a sweatshirt."

"I can't believe you admit to owning a sweatshirt."

"It's collegiate pride."

They enjoyed a light breakfast of eggs and toast while the sun came up over the city and life sprang back into the streets that went quiet every night. While the city woke, Kurt and Blaine settled into contemplative moods.

"We can't do that again," Blaine said. "I don't want us to have that kind of a relationship."

The sex was fantastic, as it always was with Kurt, but it wasn't the start of something new. It was the proper ending they'd never had.

"Neither do I."

"I still don't think it's too late for us to start talking. Although, I think we already have."

"So we start from the beginning?" Kurt asked. Blaine dared to think he looked hopeful, and then happy when Blaine nodded.

They cleared away the breakfast dishes, and Blaine said goodbye.

"You can come over any time silly straight boys want to stay up all night playing video games and interrupt your LSAT nightmares. Just use your phone and the doorbell first."

They hugged goodbye on the stoop with the snow piled up around Blaine's ankles. He didn't want to let go, but he had to because three years of separation – years when he'd been happy without Kurt and in love with other men – couldn't and shouldn't be erased. With a final wave, he bounced down the brownstone steps. Kurt called his attention back when he was on the bottom step.

"Excuse me."

Blaine turned on instinct, and his lips parted in surprise when Kurt's intention revealed itself. Kurt smiled almost shyly, and although the years had strengthened his jaw and broadened his shoulders, Blaine still saw the seventeen-year-old boy on the Dalton staircase. He wanted to say, 'When you said 'beginning' …' but he didn't because that would ruin the moment.

When he got to the bus stop two blocks over, he sent a predictable text that he hoped made Kurt smile.

_Courage._

o o o

Blaine arrived at Kurt's front door at eight o'clock bright and early on Sunday morning with a coffee holder balanced on top of his LSAT practice book and a bag of bagels dangling from his fingers. He pushed the doorbell and started backwards when Burt answered the door. He was surprised because the House wasn't in session until Tuesday, but he'd forgotten Carole had a nursing conference in Fairfax, so Burt had planned on staying in the city all weekend.

"I didn't know you were coming over," Burt said. He narrowed his eyes at the coffee cups bearing the logo of Kurt's favorite coffee shop on their collars. Blaine started to explain, but Kurt beat him to the punch.

"Is that Blaine?" he called, probably from the top of the stairs. "Send him up to my room."

Blaine stared wide-eyed at Burt and tried to arrange his face into anything but 'I had hot, rough sex with your son, my ex-boyfriend, on your dining room table.' This was, after all, the man he loved like a father, who had not abandoned him when he and Kurt broke up, who had given him the opportunity a thousand pre-law students would kill for.

"About damn time," Burt muttered.

He stood aside and motioned for Blaine to go upstairs. Blaine thought he heard laughter as he took refuge in Kurt's room. He eased the door closed, but then thought better of it and left it open a crack. Kurt laughed brightly.

"You're kidding, right?"

"I didn't think about telling your dad we're friends again. He's my boss, and you're his son."

Kurt lowered his textbook onto his bent thighs and slipped off his glasses. Blaine wondered when he'd gotten them. He'd always had perfect vision; it was Blaine who was blind as a bat.

"You're Blaine. You're a special circumstance. Now come quiz me."

Blaine handed off the bagels and coffee as he scooted onto the bed next to Kurt and reclined against the pillows and headboard. When they got situated, he took the LSAT book and skimmed through the question.

"We're really doing this at eight on a Sunday?" he questioned.

"I don't have any other time to do it. I'm taking the summer off to campaign for my dad's reelection, and in the fall I'll have to fly back to Ohio for events, so I'm taking twenty-one credits this semester to make up the difference. I have to pass the LSATs with an amazing score in June because I won't have time to take them again in October, and I suppose I could wait until December, but that's really not advisable and – _Blaine, what are you doing?_ Blaine! No! _Give me my LSAT book back!"_

The faster Kurt talked and the more frantic he sounded, the more Blaine realized he was due for a study intervention. He quite calmly rose from the bed, shut the book, and trapped it under his arm. Kurt rolled up onto his knees and shuffled across the bed.

"I need that book, Blaine!"

"You have gone insane," Blaine said patiently. Kurt snatched at the book. "The stress of seven upper level classes and the pressure of doing amazingly on the LSATs has pushed you over the edge." Kurt grabbed for the book again. "Kurt, I'm telling you this because I'm your friend. Your clothes don't match."

Kurt scoffed and looked down at his outfit. His face transformed in horror. "Oh my God!"

While Kurt changed clothes, Blaine snuck down the hall to hide the LSAT book in Finn's room, or what he thought was Finn's room, but found an empty room full of boxes with labels that indicated they were Kurt's belongings he hadn't unpacked when he moved from New York. He shoved the book into a box labeled 'kitchen' since it didn't seem likely Kurt would need utensils while he lived in the brownstone. When he came back into Kurt's room, Kurt was standing in front of the mirror holding up two ties and near tears.

"I have no idea which one looks best. Stress has killed my fashion libido." Blaine laughed without thinking and received a glare in return. "It's not funny. Who knows how long I've been walking around with mismatched textures? Oh God. I can't show my face on campus again. But then I'd fail, and –"

"Okay. Whoa." Blaine removed the red tie from Kurt's left hand. "First of all, this outfit clearly calls for a crimson tie. Secondly, I think you should get away from books for a while. Let's go to the aquarium or botanical gardens and relax."

Kurt arched a quizzical brow in the mirror. He wondered if Kurt remembered that the botanical gardens were next on the list they'd made when they were eighteen of places to see next time they came to Washington, D.C. He nodded.

"The botanical gardens sound nice."

A Sunday tradition was born. With both of them in classes and Blaine working at the Congressional office, they had very little time to see each other during the week. Even a few minutes to text came rarely and usually only while Kurt was on the subway to Arlington or Blaine was on the bus to Georgetown. Every Sunday, Blaine came by with coffee and white carbs, and they walked to another museum, monument, or landmark while they indulged. Neither of them had kept the old list, so they'd made a new one and pretended it was four years old.

"I notice you're matching again." Kurt bumped his shoulder. "No, that's good. I'm glad to have the old Kurt back."

"The new old Kurt."

Blaine considered. "Yeah, I guess so."

They had both changed a lot in three years. Blaine handled himself much better when faced with the unexpected, whether that came as words or propositions or criticism, although nowhere near as well as Kurt with his effortlessly witty comebacks. Kurt retreated into his ice cold façade much less often, and he seemed less judgmental than he'd come across in the past, but he hadn't and probably never would reach Blaine's level of friendliness. But Kurt still worried about everyone he loved like they would fall to pieces if he didn't make himself sick over it. Blaine still threw himself one hundred and ten percent into everything like he thought he needed to prove his worth.

Their rhythm together had fallen into old patterns too. Blaine deferred to Kurt's ordering of their Sunday excursions list because it didn't matter to him in what order they saw the city as long as they went together, and Kurt added things he had no interest in seeing throughout the list because it made Blaine so happy to think about going to those places.

One thing was exactly the same as most of their past relationship and different from the end. They talked. About everything.

"I probably should have asked you this before pinning you to the dining room table and forcing you to go on Sunday dates with me," Blaine began, and Kurt with his mouth full of chocolate cream donut could only roll his eyes at Blaine. "Are you seeing anyone?"

Kurt swallowed. "Oh, yes. He's a devastating beast called LSAT."

Blaine laughed around his breakfast. "I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but I think he's cheating on you. He and I are intimately involved."

They ducked into the National Postal Museum to get out of the cold March wind turning the tips of their ears red. This was one of those places Kurt absolutely did not want to see, but his protests had brought out Blaine's sad, kicked puppy eyes, and he'd crumbled. They dropped their winter outerwear off at the coat check and began a wandering pace through the museum.

"How many other boyfriends have you had?"

Blaine looked up curiously from a plaque in front of a glass display case of stamps. "Philately not interesting enough for you, so you thought you'd bring up fel–"

"Do not finish that sentence," Kurt warned.

He held up his palms in surrender. "Two. Plus the hookups that come with being a slutty boy drunk with a couple cute gay roommates."

Blaine moved on to the next display case. He knew Kurt wouldn't be able to stay silent, and that he'd only asked the question because he had something to get off his chest.

"I had one boyfriend. And a friend with benefits."

"Please tell me it wasn't Rachel."

"No! God, Blaine. That's just _so_ wrong."

"But there's nothing wrong with a friend with benefits as long as you both knew what it was."

"But it was wrong," Kurt said. "I agreed to it so I wouldn't get hurt. I was afraid to love anyone and to let myself feel that much again." He looked off into the middle distance with a furrow in his brow, caught on some moment in time Blaine had never been a part of. "I did, eventually, fall in love again, but … it wasn't the same as when we were together."

"No, it wasn't," Blaine agreed.

"Do you think that's true of all first loves? Or something special just between us?"

Blaine ran his finger along the smooth wood at the bottom of a glass display. He knew he shouldn't, but he had to touch something to ground himself to the here and now or he'd float away to high school hallways and choir rooms.

"I don't think I can put feelings into another person's heart, but … the way I feel about you, it's not how Cooper feels about Chelsea. That's all I know."

"It's not how Finn feels about Quinn."

They were both bright young men who knew sketchy anecdotes from brothers couldn't prove anything, but it did for them, because it confirmed what they both knew to be true in their hearts. They were Kurt-and-Blaine, and years and distance and history had not changed that.

o o o

Kurt changed up their weekly routine in the middle of March. He showed up at the Congressional office unannounced one day with two cups of coffee and the exaggerated flounce he used when he felt especially nervous.

"Hello, Max," he said, waving a coffee cup at the executive secretary. "Is Blaine here?"

"Behind you."

Blaine nudged the heavy wood door shut, and then scrambled to grab the doorknob. Slamming doors in the Rayburn office building tended to sound exactly like gunshots. He managed to catch the door just in time without dropping the armload of bills he'd brought up from the majority leader's office.

"Let me drop these off."

He hurried across the lobby decorated with thick blue carpet and two handsome loveseats into the office shared by the legislative liaisons. His arms ached from toting around the heavy books, and he dropped them unceremoniously onto Carla's desk with a shrug. Down the hall, Louise and the communications team sat around the circular table brainstorming how to oppose the Brightman Bill without ruffling too many feathers back in Ohio.

"Your dad isn't here right now," Blaine said. He was out of breath from running up three flights of stairs with thirty pounds of paper in his arms. "He's on the floor about to give a rousing speech, if his mood this afternoon is anything to go by."

"So he heard about Brightman's latest tirade against everyone not rich, white, and male?"

"Oh yeah."

"Hmm. Well, I'll have to catch a YouTube clip of that. But for right now, I want to know if you can take a break." Blaine hedged. No one took breaks at the office unless a debate or situation got them riled up and they needed some air before they said something regretful. "Just five minutes."

Blaine grabbed his coat and slipped out of the office before Louise could see him and call him into the brainstorming session. She found his ingrained prep school vocabulary helpful. No one could say no quite as politely. They took the stairs three floors down and past the security guard, Saul, seated beside the checkpoint. The temperature had heated up, turning the snow on the sidewalk slushy, but their breath still misted in front of them.

"Here."

Kurt finally handed over the coffee, and Blaine drank gratefully. They stood side-by-side for a few moments watching the cars zip past on Independence Avenue. The lengthy list of tasks Blaine would have to push off onto another intern if he didn't complete them before his classes started at four crept into the back of his mind.

"So you said five minutes?" he prompted.

Kurt nodded in a roundabout way. "Now that you're back in my life, I thought it was important for us to see each other today."

Blaine stared blankly. Kurt's shoulders sagged with a silent sigh.

"Well, I think it's been five minutes. I'll let you get back to work."

If the visit hadn't been quite so odd, Blaine might have let it go and rushed back upstairs to frantically type up the talking points Louise had scrawled all over a legal pad. Kurt seemed so expectant, though, and disappointed when Blaine didn't read his mind. They'd never been that way about anything. And what was so important about today?

It hit Blaine just shy of the building doors. He spun on his feet so quickly his shoes slipped in the slush, and he nearly went down. The flash of movement startled Saul, who leapt to his feet inside the lobby. But Blaine didn't see, he was running to catch up with Kurt. The other man paused when he heard his name being called and turned with a little grin hidden in the corner of his mouth. Blaine stopped short just in front of Kurt, breathing heavily and searching for his words.

"You're right about today."

Kurt ducked his head almost shyly. "I know it probably seems stupid after … everything."

"No. It doesn't." Blaine took Kurt's free hand. "Listen, Kurt. I don't know what we are right now exactly, but I don't feel like we're just friends, and I'm not saying we have to be more, because I'm not sure we're there yet, but whatever that in between place is, today is ours and it always will be."

They did a dance of leaning and retreating, equally sure of what they wanted and unsure of what the other wanted, until their own ridiculousness brought out big, toothy grins and self-deprecating laughter. Kurt's fingers slipped between Blaine's and tightened again.

"Do we have to kill another bird or …?" he teased.

With a return tease in the form of a playful eye roll, Blaine tilted his head back and stretched to his full height. Kurt met him halfway with a slight lean and ducking of his head. Their lips barely touched, but lingered. Not quite a kiss boyfriends would share, but more than even the best of friends would.

o o o

As March turned into April, and April into May, their Sunday tradition changed slightly. They still went adventuring in the city armed with cups of coffee, but they returned to the brownstone or Blaine's apartment to dive into their LSAT studies together over cartons of carry out or pizza boxes. They had just over two months before they sat the exam, and just as Kurt would not have time to adequately prepare to retake the test in the fall, neither would Blaine. Louise wanted to promote Blaine to full-time constituent services representative during the campaign so Hillary could focus on outreach. It was a fantastic opportunity for a college senior, but one that would seriously alter his class/study routine.

"The question is about moral motivation," Blaine hinted.

He had the LSAT practice book open on the armrest of the couch and a burrito in hand. Kurt paused while chewing his quesadilla and let his head fall backwards on the other end of the couch. Blaine patted the socked feet resting in his lap.

"You would have been right if it'd been about social norms."

"I hope the LSAT scorers think that way," he grumbled. "I am going to be a terrible lawyer!"

"No, you're not."

The last few weeks of spring semester, plus their ramped up LSAT studying, had again taken their toll on Kurt. He'd stopped matching again and called Blaine in tears one night begging him to come over and plan his outfits for the rest of the week. Blaine had rushed over to do just that, and then stayed all night to proofread all seven of Kurt's 20-25 page research papers so he could focus on reading through his notes for the final exams beginning the next day. Even after finals had ended, Kurt hadn't bounced back quite as well as they'd both expected, hence the Mexican food, ice cream in the freezer, and collegiate track suits.

"It takes all types to uphold the law. I'm going to be the eager guy wearing a rainbow, yelling into a bullhorn, and stirring up trouble." Kurt cracked a smile. "You're going to be Matthew McConaughey in _A Time to Kill _dazzling captive audiences with the emotional ramifications of inequality."

"But I'll wear better suits?"

"You'll wear better suits," Blaine agreed.

"D," Kurt said, answering the test question again.

Blaine flipped to the answers portion and grinned widely at him. "Yes!"

Kurt let Blaine have his moment of vicarious triumph. "Blaine. I know I haven't said anything, because you're so good at pretending you're confident about law school and after, and I've been a mess with everything going on, but I should still say it. You're going to inspire people too with your optimism and your passion."

Blaine grinned easily and rubbed the top of Kurt's foot affectionately.

"Quiz me now?"

Kurt took the book and flipped forward a few pages.

o o o

Towards the end of May, Louise called Blaine into her office. In the background, C-SPAN showed the House floor filling up as Congressmen arrived and began taking their seats before a late afternoon session where absolutely nothing would be accomplished because they were months shy of an election.

"Change of plans," she said shortly. "Hillary is staying in D.C.. I need you to go to Ohio with the campaign and do constituent outreach from the trenches."

Blaine glanced nervously over his shoulder. "You know how much I love to campaign for the Congressman, and normally I would jump at the chance, but I'm not sure I'm comfortable taking Hillary's spot."

Louise flapped her hand at him. "Hillary doesn't want to go. She just found out she's pregnant, and she doesn't want to be away from her husband for the next four months. Plus, you're from the Ohio 4th, so that's always going to be an advantage because you know these people."

Blaine silently disagreed. He knew these people turned a blind eye to bullying and hate crimes, believed Burt had a baboon heart and married a donkey, and routinely voted for a candidate who had outed a teenage girl for a bump in the polls.

"I have LSATs next month, and I'll have to come back in August to start fall semester."

"That's fine. We'll send you after your test, and I'll talk to Georgetown about getting you credit for field work so we can find a class schedule that allows you to travel." Blaine arched his brows, and Louise sighed. "The Congressman wasn't happy I didn't offer you a job on the campaign in the first place. He didn't seem to like the idea of you staying in D.C. all summer."

Because Kurt would be in Ohio, Blaine realized. Burt didn't want to separate them when they'd come back into each other's lives and gotten so close again. Not for the first time, Blaine wanted to throw his arms around Burt and say 'thank you' over and over and over until his voice went hoarse.

"Let me know about the class credits," Blaine said. "I really can't make a decision until I know I'll be able to graduate on time."

Louise came back to Blaine three days later with a signed waiver from the Dean giving Blaine the maximum internship credits permissible in the second summer session and in the fall semester. Since the standard internship was one hundred and sixty hours, and Blaine would be working well over one thousand, it wasn't exactly a fair trade off, but he wasn't going to complain about being able to put the promotion on his CV and law school application. He accepted immediately.

"You start the day after the LSAT. I hope you weren't planning a vacation."

Blaine sent a wonderfully vague text message to Kurt on his way home: _Come over tonight? Bring champagne._ His roommates had plenty of thoughts about his room sitting empty for five months. Namely, they wanted to sublet it to their fourth all-night video game marathon participant. Blaine couldn't blame them, and he had no plans to come back to D.C. anyway thanks to online classes, so he sent another wonderfully vague text message to Kurt: _Scratch the champagne. Bring Thai._

Kurt showed up at seven o'clock with a bag from their favorite Thai place swinging from his arm and a bottle of champagne in hand. "I'd already bought the champagne. Are we celebrating or not?"

"Yes, but we're also packing and need sustenance."

Kurt stared at the mountain of cardboard boxes heaped on top of Blaine's bed. While they settled on the floor to dig into the Thai, Blaine explained about the promotion and the unexpected return to Ohio, where he had not been for two years since his parents usually came to visit him or Cooper over holidays.

"Oh my God, Blaine! That's amazing! You'll have your choice of law schools with that on your CV plus your perfect GPA."

"It's not perfect."

"Near enough. By the way, you're detecting a lot of jealousy again."

"Yeah, well, you'll detect a lot of jealousy after our interviews. What I have on paper, you have in person. If we were one man, they'd swear we were a genetically engineered law school applicant."

Kurt rolled his eyes and laughed. They cleared away the Thai and saved the champagne for later. Kurt put on a new-old playlist that Blaine recognized. The songs were from glee club – Warblers and New Directions – and a few duets and meaningful songs they'd never shared with their friends.

"Why this playlist now?"

Kurt neatly packed away the books in his hands before answering. "Because we're going to be in Ohio together for the next five months where all of these songs defined us. I'm feeling nostalgic. And not for Ohio."

Blaine tugged Kurt up from his crouch around the lower shelves. He ran his hands down Kurt's arms and linked their fingers together.

"I need to know, Kurt. If I was staying here, and you were going to Ohio like we thought would happen …."

Kurt looked away and down for a moment, and Blaine waited with baited breath and his nervous hope shining in his eyes and written on his face. When Kurt looked up, he also tightened his hold on Blaine's hands.

"It was never distance that kept us apart, and we talk now like we used to."

"So what's keeping us apart now?"

Kurt shook his head. Blaine knew it wasn't a gesture that meant he didn't know, because he did. They both did.

Nothing.


	5. Summer 2016

**Summer 2016**

After LSATs. Everything became 'after LSATs.' All conversations and actions were delayed until after LSATs, and while Blaine and Kurt weren't exactly fine with that, it was the practical and responsible thing to do. The only decision made before the looming date the second week of June was to store Blaine's things in Finn's old room in the brownstone instead of a rented storage locker.

A natural extension of that decision was for Blaine to move into Kurt's bed.

The paper shook in Kurt's hand while he tried to concentrate on the logical reasoning problem Blaine had handed him a moment ago. It was a simple multiple choice answer. All he had to do was read the paragraph, read the options, and select the correct one. They'd been doing this for four months on Sundays and every night since the end of the semester. But Kurt's brain couldn't make it past the first sentence now.

"B-Blaine, I c-can't, oh my god."

Kurt's head fell heavily against the headboard as his fingers twisted in Blaine's curls. The head bobbing between his legs stopped, and Blaine cast his watering eyes up the length of Kurt's naked torso. His still-stretched lips slid off, and Kurt's flushed, spit-slick cock fell against his stomach.

"Well, not if you don't try, Kurt," he admonished. "I answered my question correctly in forty-five seconds. You're going on two minutes here. I guess that means I win."

Kurt's lips dipped into a deep frown. He tightened his hold in Blaine's hair still damp from the shower and guided him back down. With a friendly competitive smirk, Blaine drew him back into his mouth with his wet tongue and skilled fingers everywhere. Blaine heard the paper crinkle in Kurt's fist and had to pull off before a smile made teeth get involved.

"Hey! Come on. I'm trying here," Kurt whined. "It's not my fault you suck my cock like it's your job."

Blaine buried his face in Kurt's thigh and let his shoulders shake.

"C."

Blaine popped up. "What? No! That's cheating. You read the question while I wasn't blowing you."

"I didn't ask you to stop. Therefore, you broke the rules, and I win. Now it's your turn again."

Blaine objected the whole time Kurt moved his limbs into position, but they petered out into feeble attempts at best when he found himself on his hands and knees with the LSAT practice book opened to a new page between his palms and the delicious wetness of Kurt's tongue licking him open. His eyes closed and head dropped between his arms. Kurt was pulling out all the stops to get him off as quickly as possible. Blaine shook his head and refocused on the test prep book.

_The ethicist …_

"Fuck, yes, _Kurt_," he moaned.

_The ethicist …_

Kurt changed up the motions of his tongue so often Blaine couldn't begin to prepare himself for what came next. One time the broad flat of his tongue, the next circling his hole with the tip, the next teasing inside.

_The ethicist …_

Blaine's whole body trembled as Kurt fucked his tongue in and out of Blaine's stretched entrance.

"Fuck it. You win. _You win!_"

He felt Kurt smile against the swell of his ass. Blaine snaked his hand down his body and pulled at his cock twice before he came with Kurt's name on his lips. A few seconds later, he heard a cry and felt Kurt's come splash against his clenching hole.

"_Blaine!_"

Normally, he would have loved to hear Kurt screaming his name, except he sounded angry this time. Blaine rolled and collapsed onto his back, heedless of the mess of books and papers he spread over the sheets. He'd already come on the sheets anyway, so they'd need to change those.

"You came on the LSAT book!" Kurt shouted.

Blaine rolled his neck to the side and grinned happily at the wetness seeping into the pages of the practice book. He chuckled dopily.

"Not my fault you eat my ass like it's your job."

o o o

Blaine and Kurt held hands over the console of the rental car on the drive from the airport in Columbus to Lima. They marveled at the ways Ohio had changed and stayed the same since their last visit until they merged onto the highway leading them through boring stretches of flat, Midwestern landscape.

Now that the LSAT was done, and the scores coming in about three weeks, Blaine felt lighter than he had in months. He'd either done well or done poorly, and all he could do now was wait and see.

They'd been too nervous to sleep the night before LSATs so they stayed awake quizzing each other while they packed for their extended stay in Ohio.

They'd arrived at the Area Test Center, the only place in Washington, D.C. to offer the LSAT in June, together an hour early and roamed the hallways nervously shaking out their limbs and whispering encouragements to each other while secretly believing they personally would fail miserably and have to cancel their scores, or worse, pick a new profession entirely. Everything after they'd been handed their tests turned into a haze of black print on a white page and hand cramps. After the test, they'd tried to compare answers, but quit when they forgot too many and gave up the rest of the day to wine, sex, and naps.

The flight would have been a continuation of the wine and naps portion (they weren't brave enough to join the mile high club on a flight to Ohio), but Burt strictly forbade his staff from flying business class. It was a waste of taxpayer money (although the taxpayer salary for a U.S. Congressman barely gave Burt enough to live and eat in D.C., so it was more like donor money, but Blaine understood and respected the sentiment). The rental car, a nondescript blue hybrid, Blaine had paid for with his new salary.

"You're sure about this? I can still sign a short-term lease on an apartment."

"Don't waste your money," Kurt said. "Law school is going to be expensive, and I'm counting on your savings account keeping me in designer clothes." He kissed Blaine's cheeks sweetly. "Anyway, my dad still has to fly to D.C. until November, and when he is in Ohio they'll be campaigning all over the district. It won't be much different living in their house in Lima than in the brownstone."

Kurt had the option of going back to D.C. when he wasn't needed in Ohio, but instead he'd asked for a job on the campaign. He would be working with Laurel, the press secretary. It still amused them both how much the campaign had grown from the ragtag group of volunteers and teenagers who had helped Burt win the first time. But now that he had a voting record Reggie "The Sauce" Salazar could use against him, the extra minds – and campaign funding – came in useful.

"It feels so strange to be in here," Blaine said.

Kurt's old bedroom hadn't changed since high school, a sign that Kurt had spent very little time there. Someone, probably Carole, had made up the bed and dusted, but it looked cavernous without Kurt's belongings dotting the shelves. The last time they'd been in this room together, they'd broken up. Kurt had realized it too, because despite the fatigue and general grime of travel, he shuffled Blaine back towards the bed.

"New memories," he insisted between kisses.

Blaine thought that sounded like a fantastic idea.

"We should probably talk about this," Kurt said later, when they lay tangled up in each other with only the whirring air conditioner outside the window to interrupt their quiet moments. He traced patterns over the sparse hair on Blaine's chest that hadn't been there three years ago and fascinated him now. "We said after LSATs."

"Should we get dressed first? Or at least shower?"

Kurt slid his leg over Blaine's hips and squeezed him tighter in response. Blaine chuckled softly, but he knew Kurt would want to do this properly, so he didn't say anything. When Kurt let go slowly a few minutes later, they showered and changed into fresh clothes suitable for dinner out with Burt and Carole. Instead of going to headquarters right away, they settled on the couch downstairs.

"There is only one thing I need to tell you, Blaine, for you to know how I feel about us." He blinked adoringly at Blaine. "I love you."

Blaine's breath caught in his chest, and a moment of pure, wonderful, beautiful, perfect swept through him. "I love you too."

They met in the middle, foreheads pressed together and noses nuzzling, while hands caressed jaws and the backs of necks.

"I'm not letting you go this time."

"Never again."

Maybe it wasn't supposed to be that easy. Maybe there should have been some drama, a few shouting matches, hurt feelings caused by silence. Except that they'd learned from their mistakes, internalized the lessons, and wouldn't let it happen again. They were Kurt-and-Blaine. More than first loves. Forever loves.

o o o

After their first day in Lima, they had very little time to spend together. Entire weeks vanished to sixteen hour days, fundraising banquets, and day trips around the district. Sometimes Burt was in Ohio to campaign, but the House wasn't in recess until August so he spent about half his time in D.C.

Because Blaine had worked in the Congressional office, and so few of the campaign staff had, they looked to him for guidance even in situations he felt he knew nothing about. The only other DC staffer in the entourage was Laurel, the press secretary, and she was too busy corralling the press to be bothered with questions, so they all came to Blaine.

As the constituent outreach representative, he travelled with Burt to various rallies, meet-and-greets, and events where he met with constituents who had approached someone in the campaign – usually the Hummels or a volunteer handing out materials – about a problem they were experiencing that their Congressman could help them resolve, such as VA benefits. Balancing their inquiries with the multitude of questions from the junior staffers and volunteers had him on his toes and wondering why Burt and Louise thought he could do this job.

"You're sexy when you're flustered."

Blaine threw a look at Kurt, which he supposed was somewhere far beyond 'flustered' on the scale. Harried, maybe, would describe it well. Kurt smoothed back a few curls that had gone astray.

"You're doing great. Everyone is talking about how helpful and polite you are. They love you, and they're so glad you're here until November. I have to take my seat, but I'll see you after."

Kurt kissed him lightly on the cheek and hurried around the red curtain at the side of the stage to take his seat in the front row next to Carole and Finn. Normally, Kurt would be in the thick of the action assisting the press secretary, but today he needed to be the Congressman's son. The town hall would begin in a few minutes after the audience took their seats and Laurel approved Burt's appearance. Cameras from local television stations sat below the mezzanine, and journalists were interspersed throughout the crowd.

It wasn't until Blaine peered around the curtain to gauge the size of the crowd that it hit him where he stood. He sucked in a sharp breath as memories flashed behind his eyes. The April Rhodes Civic Pavilion, the schedule had said, but to Blaine it would always be the McKinley auditorium. He'd stood in these wings countless times waiting to sing to an audience with glee club or a musical cast. So much emotion had been shared on this stage, so many memories had been made.

"Wish me luck, kid."

Blaine started out of his nostalgic trance. Burt stood beside him in a suit Kurt had bought for him with an American flag pin in the lapel and a layer of powder on his face. He tugged uncomfortably on his tie. He'd once asked Blaine how he stood wearing bowties everyday because he felt like he couldn't breathe with the top button done up, much less a tie around his neck.

"You'll do great, sir."

Burt clapped him on the shoulder and waited silently while the Mayor of Lima introduced him. Blaine watched the town hall from the wings, noting all of the names of constituents who asked questions and any problems they expressed that he might be able to help them with. As predicted, Burt took a lot of flack for his votes on equality, reproductive rights, and most other social issues. He fielded them as resolutely and simply as always, reiterating that discrimination of any kind was not acceptable and that to say otherwise harkened back to a time when a human being could be considered three-fifths of a person, and how he hoped no one in the Ohio 4th wanted to be a part of that legacy.

"I told him not to say that," Laurel groaned.

Blaine tried not to laugh at her dismay. Politically speaking, discussing racism when the opposition was Black probably wasn't a great idea, but Blaine had never known Burt to do the politically astute thing when it conflicted with honesty. It probably would give Salazar ammunition, but whatever blustering happened, Burt would say what he always said: he served the entire district – black, white, gay, straight, and everything else (he'd dropped the "purple, dinosaur" in Blaine's original draft of the speech) and their issues were his issues to talk about with them and represent in Congress.

"They don't call him Honest Burt on the Hill for nothing."

Laurel shook her head. "Great. A comparison to Abraham Lincoln. Now I have to deal with the political fallout of the conceited white man saving the dark-skinned people from the oppressive racism of the Republican party when – oh, right – _the Republican opposition is Black_."

Blaine had never thought he'd had the most stressful job in the campaign. He always knew that belonged to Laurel. She had to face the press everyday as they yelled questions, twisted Burt's words, and suspected his motivations, and she had to reply with a calm and logical answer while seeming charming and witty in the face of their mass verbal assault. He couldn't imagine the emotional trauma of dealing with it day after day. And this was what Kurt wanted to do for a living.

After the last question and Burt's closing remarks, Blaine sent the file of constituents' names and problems to himself. He sent an intern to collect their contact information. If he introduced himself to one person now, he'd never get to all the others tonight. He received an e-mail from the intern with phone numbers and best call times while the last of the audience trickled out of their seats. He made a note to always ask the intern – Neil – to work with him; not many teenagers would have had the foresight to ask for best call times without explicit instructions.

Blaine stayed long after the town hall ended. The audience and most of the campaign staff had cleared out by the time Burt's executive secretary sent out the official transcript of the meeting. He scrolled down the screen on his iPad while wandering around to take out the ache in his arches and knees from standing still for so long.

"Do you miss it?"

He looked up questioningly at the sound of Kurt's voice. His boyfriend gestured to the right, and Blaine's eyes swept over the empty auditorium seats. Blaine had meandered onto the middle of the stage. Kurt stood in the wings, his hands the pockets of his pressed black pants, with peaceful affection on his face.

"Performing. Do you miss it?" he repeated.

Blaine glanced at the empty seats again. "Yes. Sometimes."

"Me too. Whenever I see someone on stage, even like tonight when my dad was just talking, I have to remind myself what those final few performances at NYADA felt like or I'll start questioning the decisions I've made."

"I had a moment like that tonight. Where I was standing, it reminded me so much of waiting in the wings with Rachel when we did _West Side Story_ I completely lost myself in it. Those were seventeen-year-old dreams, though. I have much more rewarding ones now."

Kurt nodded. "So, there's a pitch-in the guys at the tire shop organized. Do you want to go?"

"Are you kidding? This was the last event of a seventy hour work week and your parents won't be back for hours. I'm taking you home."

o o o

When Burt was in Washington, the campaign didn't slow down, but the media frenzy surrounding the election died away. The staffers were free to go about stuffing envelopes, making phone calls, and putting up lawn signs in relative peace (unless they encountered a Salazar zealot).

Blaine used the time to hole himself up in his office and make the phone calls to constituents in need of assistance. Their stories tore at his heart: seniors unable to afford their medication, homeless veterans, people wanting to adopt but not being able to afford it, and victims of abuse calling foul on breaches of justice. There were plenty of crazy constituents too that left Blaine laughing, like the gentleman in a dispute with the IRS because he claimed his pet birds as dependents on his tax returns.

Sometimes when he had no public appearances to make as Congressman Hummel's son, and because he had no office of his own, Kurt dragged a spare desk chair into Blaine's office and typed up press releases on his iPad. They worked in companionable silence – at least until Blaine made another phone call – with only the clicking of their keyboards and the buzz of volunteer conversations at the tables outside.

"If it isn't my two favorite pretty ponies."

Blaine and Kurt's heads whipped up at the sound of the voice they knew so well, but hadn't heard in years. Santana leaned against the jamb with her arms crossed over her chest and a bright smile directed at them. She had on a smart skirt suit in vibrant red that matched her lipstick. She accepted their hugs with more grace than teenaged Santana would have done and perched on the edge of Blaine's desk. She cooed at him.

"Aw. Someone finally staged a gelervention. Sort of."

Blaine rolled his eyes. "I've missed you too, Santana."

"Not that we're not thrilled to see you, because we are, but what brings you down to 'Re-elect Hummel' headquarters?" Kurt asked.

Her smile faded into a familiar snarl. "That Grade A dickbag Salazar doesn't get to out me on public television and get away with it. I've campaigned for your dad the last two elections, but I haven't been home, so only with the vicious rhetoric that comes with social media accounts. Now that I'm back for the summer, and with law school on the horizon, I thought I'd put my education to good use and let Snixx out to tell Salazar where he can stick his sauce."

"You're going to be a lawyer too?"

Santana shook her head. "Wait. Too? Sorry, no, but I'm in law school in real life, not in a snazzy musical where there's a quirky romantic subplot and show-stopping dance interlude."

"I'm pretty sure we took the LSAT in real life," Blaine answered.

She glanced between them, her smile growing again. "No fucking way! Between Snixx, the flaming snark queen wafting off Hummel, and Sir Gels-A-Lot's puppy dog eyes, the rainbow squad is gonna get shit done! Where have you applied?"

"We haven't," Blaine answered, because Kurt was preoccupied with glaring at Santana. "We just took the LSAT. We don't even have our scores yet."

"Well, let me know when you decide. If we end up at the same school, I'll look forward to hazing you relentlessly."

Having Santana around reminded Blaine and Kurt of the best parts of high school. She hadn't mellowed at all since graduation. If anything, she'd grown even more ruthless with her cutting remarks and ambition, but the anger was gone. She smiled and laughed more, and she only released genuine torrents of abuse on Salazar, which everyone in the office appreciated, except for Laurel who fretted constantly that a reporter would hear and link the comments to the official press office.

Her question about where they planned to apply to law school also brought up a topic neither man had wanted to discuss just then, but after their LSAT results came, it couldn't be avoided any longer. Both had done well. Kurt's dreams of pulling an Elle Woods miracle score didn't come true. Blaine was just happy to have landed in an above average percentile. A celebratory dinner was planned for the next weekend Burt was home.

"So that's, like, a good score?" Finn asked.

"It's an amazing score," Blaine said, rubbing Kurt's knee under the table.

"So is yours."

The platters and bowls of food went around the table while Carole poured generous helpings of red wine for all her boys. Burt pulled a face when she put a glass down in front of him, but he knew he couldn't get away with having a beer tonight, so he accepted the drink anyway. The family raised a glass to Blaine and Kurt.

"So the important question is whether we're going to have you boys living in the brownstone for four more years," Carole said, as if them being together forever was a foregone conclusion. "Are you planning on staying in D.C.?"

They exchanged a quick, unsure look.

"We're going to talk about that soon," Blaine said, and Kurt nodded. "But given the kind of law we want to practice, I think it would a logical choice to stay around the Capital. I'd love to stay at Georgetown, if they accept me."

"But it's not the only choice," Kurt said. "There aren't enough options in Washington once you discount religious affiliated universities. I really loved living in New York."

Blaine pursed his lips and looked down at his plate quickly. He hated it when Kurt did this. The only logical choice given their years of involvement with government and career goals was Washington, D.C., but Kurt didn't always think logically. He wanted what he wanted, whether it was practical or not. If Blaine pushed the issue, he'd be the bad guy, and he hated playing the bad guy, but if he didn't, they were headed down a too familiar path.

"You kids have lots of time to decide," Burt said, trying to break the tension around the table. "Applications aren't due until next spring, right? Even the best laid plans change. Think about Blaine's choice of schools. You thought you were going to Stanford, then you accepted at Columbia, only to get late admission to Georgetown."

Blaine sucked in a sharp breath, but the sound of Kurt's fork clattering to his plate covered it. Burt's face melted into defeat, as he realized he'd let slip a secret he'd kept for three years. Kurt pushed back hard from the table and raced out of the dining room. The backdoor slammed. Blaine uttered a quick "excuse me" and went after his boyfriend.

Kurt stood on the back porch with the fireflies around him lighting up the midnight blue sky that came after a day of sweltering humidity. The porch swing creaked in the low wind, and Blaine's shoes thumped hollowly against the deck. Kurt was crying.

"Kurt …."

Blaine begged him to stop with a name, but he shook his head and turned away sharply. Blaine hovered, wanting so badly to gather the man he loved into his arms, but knowing Kurt would never allow it while he was upset.

"Columbia," he cried. "You picked Columbia for me, and I … I broke us up for no reason."

"Kurt, we've talked about this. We're not playing the blame game."

"We could have been together for the past three years and making a life together. Here I am doing it again trying to take you away from the place you really want to be just like I did with Dalton and Stanford. You picked McKinley for me, and now I know you picked Columbia too. I don't want to keep you from your dreams again. Why do I always do this to you?"

Blaine shook his head quickly. He approached Kurt and delicately wiped away the falling tears.

"Kurt, I don't resent you for anything. I'm perfectly capable of making my own choices. I know it might seem like I'm giving in to you, but, Kurt, I've only ever done what I've secretly always wanted and was too afraid to admit. I'm always going to pick the people I love over everything else not because I'm too weak to go after what I want, but because what I want is someone to love."

"I love you back. I love you so much."

Kurt threw his arms around Blaine's neck and held on tightly. He let his tears fall onto Blaine's shoulder while they rocked gently on the deck with Blaine's fingers messing up his hair, and Kurt didn't care at all because the man who loved him so perfectly held him.

"But everything that happened, it didn't have to," Kurt whispered.

Blaine made a disagreeing sound. "The circuitous journeys we take in life are the most meaningful. I wouldn't be this version of the man standing in front of you if I'd made other choices. And I really, really like this version of myself."

"I've never heard you say that," Kurt said.

"Hmm. A silver lining," Blaine returned lightly. "Come on. Let's go back inside so your dad doesn't think he's ruined something wonderful. No more tears or regrets or apologies over the past ever again. We're together again, and that's what matters. Promise me."

Kurt nodded. "Promise."

o o o

As July became August, the campaigning picked up full swing. Salazar had used the time Burt was in Washington to whip his troops into action (and likely would again when the House reconvened in September), but the Democratic and Republican conventions had drawn so much attention to the Presidential races that it hadn't done much to help him gain in the polls. And anyway, they were always neck-and-neck until the finish line on Election Day. A Democrat in the Ohio 4th could not count on name recognition when so many constituents voted party line.

The workload had doubled with Burt back in Ohio, and as the majority of schmoozing required an individual touch with the populace, almost every conversation of Burt's, no matter how short or seemingly insignificant, meant hours of work for Blaine. He was calling government agencies, sending strongly worded but not hostile e-mails, follow up phone calls to constituents, and always ending with the final breathless line that concluded one of a hundred cases on his desk, "My pleasure, Mr./Ms. _, and I hope you consider voting Congressman Hummel back to Congress."

As the candidate's son, Kurt could hardly corral the press the way Laurel did, but she had him busily working on written statements, blog posts, the Twitter feed, and press releases. Santana worked the volunteers into a flurry with her commanding presence and compelling speeches. When her sharp tongue turned inspirational, it was truly a sight to behold.

"Future Supreme Court Justice," Kurt predicted.

"No way she'd want to sit on the Bench. I'm guessing Attorney General."

They put twenty and bragging rights for life on it.

After fifteen days of work, Kurt and Santana staged an intervention of sorts, meaning they barged into Blaine's office on Saturday night, kidnapped him, and took him to a bar. It had been Santana's idea to go to an old haunt of hers with karaoke on Saturdays.

Against their better judgment, Blaine and Kurt let Santana ply them with free alcohol and trusted her to be their designated driver. Blaine handed Kurt his martini while he nursed a beer and spun on his stool to observe the stage where a middle aged soccer mom did a decent rendition of _These Boots Are Made For Walkin'_.

"I'm signing us up!" Kurt announced. "A solo each, plus all possible combinations of duets!"

He bounced off his seat and pushed through the crowd towards the stage. Santana spun Blaine's stool so he faced her.

"So, Blaine, I hear not all has been happy in Unicorn Land since we last saw each other. In high school, I mean, not since this afternoon."

"Oh. Umm, no. We broke up for a couple years, but we've worked that out now. We're stronger now than we were back then."

"Lucky bastards," she said, but with a smile. "I wish I could have found my Princess Charming in high school. You'd think I'd been through enough partners to know what I wanted, but apparently only the women count in my case because I still have no fucking idea who could possibly complement me."

"So it would be a bad idea to ask about Brittany?"

Santana shrugged. "It ended a long time ago, and it wasn't pretty. If we ever run into each other again, I'm not sure any cast iron pans aimed at heads would be a cute misunderstanding. You're lucky you have each other. Ugh. Too depressing. I need a hot girl to cheer me up."

Blaine flashed her an amused grin. He spun around again to watch his boyfriend dancing among the small crowd off to the side of the stage. Kurt had his back to the bar, but looked over his shoulder while he danced. Blaine leapt up off the bar stool.

"Sorry, Santana. I have to go. Kurt's calling me over."

She glanced between Blaine and Kurt, and then burst out laughing. "Oh my God! You shake your asses to get each other's attention? You two are so _gay!_"

Blaine hurried over to the dance floor with a final wave and a grin. Kurt had loosened up considerably under the influence of alcohol and pop music. He shimmied around, wiggling his hips and shoulders in just the way Blaine loved. Santana found a stunning redhead at the bar to cheer her up in short order.

"We're up next!" Kurt called over the final off key notes of _Livin' on a Prayer_.

He took Blaine's hand and pulled him up onto the stage after the previous singers vacated to a smattering of applause. Blaine kept asking what song they were doing, but Kurt only smiled coyly and ushered him onto the stage and handed him a wireless microphone.

"For later. You'll know when to sing."

The opening notes of Pink's _Perfect_ brought a gasp to his lips followed by a tender look at his boyfriend. What had once been sweet, heartfelt endearments now took on an even more personal tone. Kurt ignored the screen showing the lyrics, the audience at their tables, and the dancers off to the side. They had eyes only for each other.

_"__Made a wrong turn, once or twice_  
_ Dug my way out, blood and fire_  
_ Bad decisions, that's all right_  
_ Welcome to my silly life._"

o o o

The House and college were back in session starting in September, and although Blaine had only online classes, Kurt did not. He flew back to Washington, D.C. at the very end of August with a great deal of reluctance. Blaine, however, put him on the airplane with a kiss and a promise of nightly Skype dates. He couldn't promise he'd be able to make a specific time, but generally he was back at the Hummel's by midnight.

"I'm worried that this is where we mess up," Kurt admitted during that first Skype date.

"I'm not," Blaine said simply. "You're not getting away from me again. I'll send you a bunny in a cooking pot if I have to."

Kurt shook his head. "Knowing you, it'd be alive and have a bowtie around its neck with a note attached bearing some sad rabbit-related pun about staying together forever."

"Hmm. Probably. Or a stuffed animal, because I'm not one hundred percent sure rabbits make good pets, even if they are adorable."

"How did we switch from serious relationship conversation to cute baby animals?"

Blaine shrugged. "Maybe because we didn't need to have the serious relationship conversation? If you're dying for a little bit more anti-climactic non-drama, you could make a list of things to discuss when you come back in October. Although, personally, I'd rather talk over Skype and not talk when you're here, but that's just me."

Kurt rolled his eyes on screen. Blaine fought off a yawn brought on by a busy day. With Kurt and Santana gone, the campaign staff had distributed their work as evenly as possible, but Blaine being Blaine, he'd volunteered to take on even more responsibilities.

"I'd chide you for saying that, but I know how much stress you're under and exactly how I could help you with that." He shifted around and pulled the laptop closer to him. "In fact, I could probably do something about that right now."

Blaine stifled another yawn, and Kurt huffed.

"I'm sorry," Blaine laughed. "I would love to jerk off with you on webcam, if only your stepmom wasn't down the hall and I hadn't just worked seventeen hours."

Blaine settled down into the computer chair and huddled into the comfortable sleep pants and t-shirt he'd changed into after work while Kurt chatted about his classes and professors. He was too sleepy to reciprocate and share his own day and classes, but they had time for that later. All the time in the world, in fact, because Blaine was never letting go of this wonderful man again.

"I love you," he said, blinking sleepily.

Kurt paused in the middle of a critique about his senior seminar professor, caught a little off guard by the affirmation brought into the middle of such a mundane conversation, just like the very first time Blaine had said the words.

"I love you too."


	6. Summer 2021

**Summer 2021**

The joint graduation party in the small square of backyard behind the brownstone was small and intimate. Kurt and Blaine had invited family and friends who could make it to Washington, D.C. for the weekend. They'd already spent a sleepless night at a Georgetown bar with their law school friends and graciously agreed to let Burt and Carole host something for the family.

To his surprise, the Andersons had wanted to fly out to spend a few days with Blaine. Cooper had come from California too, although he'd done that a couple times over the years when he had the money to manage it, so that wasn't such a shock. Santana and Rachel had taken the train down from New York, Santana said, for the chance to welcome Kurt and Blaine into "the soulless ranks of Shysters" with a promise to "incorporate you into the hive mind" before she left.

Burt stood over the grill turning hamburgers and hotdogs and watching the kids – who were really adults, but who Burt would always think of as kids – through the charcoal cooking smoke. They had truly come into their own over the years and grown into great men who would leave their mark on the world, Burt was sure of it.

"I think you're burning them," Carole said.

Burt swore under his breath and hastily removed the hotdogs from the grill. He let the conversation and peals of laughter go on without his observations for the next several minutes while he finished cooking and Carole brought the rest of the dishes to the long table outside.

"Time to eat!" he announced.

They formed eager lines, as if Burt had kept them waiting for days instead of an hour, and settled back into their places to tuck into the buffet of cookout foods prepared earlier in the day. Burt came over last of all and settled into the lawn chair between Carole and Finn. He pretended not to notice Kurt's disgruntled look at the hamburger topped with cheese and mayonnaise. It wasn't every day his son graduated law school. Burt was celebrating.

"So I think the question now is … what comes next?"

Blaine's dad was like that, always looking to the next possible achievement. Burt would have been happy for the kids to take the summer off and just relax after all the hard work they'd put into getting their degrees, but law wasn't a profession that allowed for that.

"Vacation," Kurt laughed. "We're going to Paris for a week."

Burt wanted to cheer. He'd been trying to push them to take a freaking break for years. Mr. Anderson wasn't buying that as a good idea, though, Burt could see it in the set of his jaw. He wanted to haul off and shake some sense into the guy. He didn't see the way these kids worked every day. Who was he to judge whether they got a break or not?

"We have our bar review starting next week, and then we take the bar exam in July so we're licensed to practice," Blaine explained, maybe to appease his father.

Santana declared she would develop PTSD if they talked about bar exams anymore, so they switched the topic of conversation to reminiscences about high school. It carried them through lunch and well into the evening when the day finally began to cool off and the fireflies came out.

While Kurt and Blaine were in Paris the next week, Burt put all the finishing touches on his and Carole's plan to reward the boys for their incredibly hard work. He wasn't entirely surprised when they were interrupted early one morning by a phone call from Kurt.

"I asked Blaine to marry me, and he said yes! Well, actually, he tried to ask me, but he got tongue-tied and flustered like he does, so I took over."

So Burt and Carole's plans changed a little bit, but for the better. When Kurt and Blaine came home from Paris, they did so to an emptier house. Now that they had no sons to fill the third floor bedrooms, Burt and Carole gave the brownstone to Kurt and Blaine as a graduation/wedding present and moved into an apartment on C Street more suited to half-time residents. One day, the boys would have kids to fill up the two third floor bedrooms.

"Oh my God!" Kurt exclaimed. "We have a house! Blaine, we have a house! We have to redecorate and buy our own furniture and …."

Kurt was off on a litany of extravagant designs for each room that he would soon learn they couldn't afford until they both got jobs at the end of the summer, and even after that he'd want to save up for the lavish wedding he'd undoubtedly been planning since childhood. Blaine grinned easily and accepted all of Kurt's hopes and dreams for their house.

"The doggie bed can go right over there," he added.

Kurt went quiet for a moment, and tried to look disapproving, but couldn't manage it. Burt hid a laugh with a cough. Blaine might show his affection more outwardly with his expressive eyes and dopey grins, but that didn't mean Kurt wasn't just as head-over-heels. Sure, Burt had always known they were in love, but there was love and _love_.

"Yes, it can. And a doggie door in the kitchen door in case we have to work long days."

"Can he sleep in our bed?" Blaine asked eagerly.

Kurt huffed. "At the end of the bed."

Blaine cheered. Burt and Carole left with smiles and hugs for their boys and promises to take them out to celebrate their engagement properly another time.

o o o

Burt didn't expect to see the boys much over the summer. They had to study for the bar while the House was in session, and by the time they'd found out they'd passed with flying colors it was in recess. He managed to have one quiet night with them before he flew back to Ohio for a hopefully restful August when he could work at the tire shop in comfortable clothes for a change. No matter how often he wore ties, he still felt like he was being slowly strangled.

Kurt picked a fancy restaurant that required reservations and only ever had openings after nine o'clock. Burt still wondered who in the hell ate dinner that late. The lobbyists he despised eating with liked this place for lunch. The food was great, and since he was paying and not being pressed to sign this or that piece of legislation, he could actually enjoy it this time.

"Now that you're licensed lawyers and all that, we can finally talk about your start date," Burt said.

The boys shared a reluctant, almost pained look while they clasped hands under their side of the booth. Carole made a tutting sound in his ear, like he'd done something silly on purpose.

"Dad, as honored as Blaine and I are by your offer and your faith in our abilities, we've given this a lot of discussion, and we're in agreement. We can't work together every day."

"The intensity and inherent debate in political jobs puts an incredible amount of stress on a person, and we don't want to subject our relationship to those rigors every day for the rest of our lives," Blaine went on. "It's almost inevitable that we'll be on opposite sides of something at some time, but we want our home to be a haven, and we don't think we can create that working in the same office."

Burt looked over at his wife. "Did you know about this?"

"I suspected there had to be a reason they picked different law schools when they got into all the same programs. I can't imagine law school would be any less stressful if you're competing with the person sharing your bed. And men are _always_ competing with each other, even if they won't admit it."

Blaine and Burt protested, but Kurt nodded significantly.

"So that's it? I'm losing out on the two best candidates to replace Louise because they're engaged? Somehow that doesn't seem fair."

On the other side of the table, the boys stirred in their seats. Their bright eyes showed all the ambition and ego they must have shoved aside to come to the decision not to take jobs from him. But chief of staff of a Congressman's office straight out of law school, that was something difficult to turn down. And, in fact, they didn't.

Louise sent regular reports on how her replacement was coming along (and also her husband's health situation, which didn't seem to be deteriorating anymore, so that was good) while the House was in recess, and Burt arrived back in the Washington office to find everything running without a hitch, almost as if there hadn't been a transition in leadership at all.

"On the legislative agenda today is the new health education bill. We've been getting a lot of calls from constituents about this one, and they're going to need some convincing that the bill is good as is. Both sides of the aisle are behind it, but the blowhards on talk radio didn't have anything else to attack yesterday. Now it's back to an abstinence-only versus sex ed debate even though that's not at all what the bill is about. The more spineless Congressmen are bailing on it. They want to send it back to committee. I've had Laurel drafting statements you can read to the press and got Josiah working on a rebuttal to the public's concerns which are totally unfounded anyway –"

"Hey, kid." Burt stopped in the middle of the tunnel running between the Rayburn building and the Capitol. The Congressman clasped his shoulder and squeezed. "You've already impressed me. That's why you got the job. I trust you to have everything I need when I ask you for it. But for now, just breathe, all right?"

Blaine took a deep breath through his nose and blew out through his lips, as if that too had been an order. Burt threw his arm around his future son-in-law's shoulder.

"Ah, kid. I'm glad I have you working with me every day."

As soon as Burt's colleagues had realized Kurt had no intention of working for him – something the other Congressmen with children in the profession couldn't quite comprehend – they scrambled to hire him on, but he had no intention of working on Capitol Hill if not with his dad. He worked at a government think-tank now. His employers wanted to start sending him on political news and debate programs to represent their interest as on-air talent, and Kurt couldn't have been happier about putting his higher education, stage presence, and natural wit to good use.

Burt went into the session with high spirits, and as usual, came out in a foul mood.

"Talk about blowhards," Burt grumbled back in the office.

"Did it –"

"The voting was delayed, which means it's not going to pass unless we do some damage control. I've said I'm in favor of the bill from the beginning, and so is the White House, so expect some calls about getting me to convince a few of the guys still on the fence. I'll do it, as long as it's an honest conversation and not some seedy backroom deal."

Burt honestly lost track of how long the voting was delayed, but it felt like he called someone or other trying to rally votes for it for weeks. On his way to a committee hearing, he caught a snippet of Kurt arguing in favor of the bill on MSNBC. He paused in front of the television, beaming at his little boy on the screen. He talked a mile a minute and had the left side of the panel laughing behind their hands, which Burt figured meant he was well on his way to becoming a political media darling. Of course he was. He was Kurt Hummel.

When he came out of his office at last, Blaine looked torn about whether he should come with Burt or stand in his office watching Kurt's segment. Burt popped his head into the office.

"Carole DVRs all his stuff."

With a sigh of relief, Blaine hurried out of his office with a stack of folders under his arm and talking just as rapidly as Kurt had on the TV to brief him about the so-called "expert opinions" he would be listening to in about five minutes. At least three of them were wackadoodle, according to Blaine, which Burt figured he'd get on his own, but he knew Blaine liked to be as thorough as possible to prepare Burt before the world watched him on CSPAN (or, rather, the roughly twelve people in the world who watched CSPAN).

In the chamber, Burt took his seat between two Congressmen who were wackadoodle in their own right. Blaine joined the small contingent from the Congressional office in the row behind the press and cameras. The chairman opened the session with general comments about why they gathered today and a history of the bill they were debating, along with the reason he believed it should return to the general assembly for a vote as is, before turning over the floor to the ranking Republican for remarks.

Only one thing made Congressional hearings interesting: scandal. Two minutes into the opposition's remarks, Burt knew they had it. He glanced into the crowd of staffers to see Blaine, and every other Democrat there, whispering and typing quickly on their phones.

"Furthermore, we propose an additional amendment to the bill: that no school receiving federal funds shall offer sexual education courses discussing, explicit or otherwise, sexual acts between members of the same sex."

When Burt exited the chamber later that afternoon, he had one directive for Blaine. "Call everyone in."

The entire Congressional staff, save the office manager, gathered in the conference room to devise a strategy for blocking the amendment before it could go to the House for a vote. Opinions flew for hours. They ran out of white boards for their brainstorming, but through it all, Burt said nothing. He tipped back in the handsome leather desk chair with his hand over his mouth and eyes fixed on the floor while he listened. When Connie, the office manager, brought Blaine a note, he interrupted the session.

"Thank you, everyone. The Congressman and I need the room."

Kurt slipped inside, closed the door, and took a seat next to Blaine. Burt watched them closely for several minutes without speaking. Obviously, Blaine already knew what he was going to say if he'd called in Kurt to try and talk him out of it.

"I'm not the most politically savvy guy in Congress, but even I know they'll be up in arms back home if I oppose this. These ideas you guys came up with to get the amendment off the bill, they're great, and they'll work, but someone else has got to do them. I can't touch this one."

Blaine's shoulders slumped. The kid had a great head for politics. He'd known from the moment it had been brought up in the hearing this would be the final outcome. Kurt, however, had not worked in the Congressional office nearly as long as Blaine. His job afforded him a great deal of freedom to share his opinions in whatever method he saw fit to win an argument.

"Dad, they're turning this into an anti-gay bill."

"I know, and it tears me up to not call out the bastards and fight this until my last breath, but I have to weigh the long-term goals here. If I don't get re-elected, that puts the Ohio 4th right back in the hands of some conservative politician like Salazar who will introduce bills like this left and right."

Kurt looked troubled and turned to Blaine for support. The other man nodded, some silent communication only they could understand. Or maybe, Burt thought, they'd talked about this before, and this was some moment they'd planned for.

"Since when did re-election become the goal?" Kurt wondered. "This was always a moral obligation for you, Dad. When did you stop speaking candidly about what you believe?"

Burt's brow furrowed, and he shifted around restlessly in his chair. That wasn't quite a fair assessment, except he knew exactly when he started picking his battles, and it coincided too closely to an election with a narrow margin of victory for his comfort.

"What do you really think about this amendment, sir?" Blaine asked.

"I think I've had nightmares about some cocky kid _not_ strutting into my tire shop and telling me to get my act together, because then the first I'd hear about guys and parties might have been from Kurt the morning after it was too late for me to tell my son he mattered. I think sex ed classes should be required and cover all sexualities, because you never know who's sitting in the back of the room questioning, and not all fathers would march into a free clinic and ask for pamphlets about gay sex. I think it's a travesty that we have people trying to legislate ignorance and hate."

By the time he finished, Burt was breathing like a winded rhino, and Kurt and Blaine beamed at him with unsuppressed pride. Burt wondered when he'd stopped seeing that on their faces, and how he'd gone so long without it.

"Ten years is a good run in office," Blaine said. "You have a voting record that will do you credit. But this … this can be your legacy. We can do this, sir, and all it will cost you is a House seat you never aspired to anyway."

Burt sat back heavily in his chair. Ten years he had represented the people of the Ohio 4th. He'd dragged them out of the fringes and into the mainstream kicking and screaming, and maybe he'd left the district a better place for the people he'd always wanted to protect. He nodded slowly.

"If we're going to do this, it's not gonna be for nothing. We're gonna push through a brand new bill that puts a little more equality into our schools, so find a strong co-sponsor who's not backing out come hell or high water. And I'm not handing the election to Salazar after beating him so many times, so let's start thinking about when and how I'll announce my retirement and talk to the DNC about getting a candidate to run next year. If this is the end, let's make an end no one will ever forget."

The bill passed in February 2022, and Burt announced his retirement from the House of Representatives in May 2022 in a speech delivered from the courtyard steps of William McKinley High School.

"I ran for office the first time because I wanted to stand up and say I have a vision for a better world than the one we're living in, and I didn't just want to do it from my armchair in front of the television on election night. Now, I realize I made a lot of people angry with some of my votes and bills in Congress. But I'm proud to stand up here today and say that the man who leaves this office is the same one you elected eleven years ago."

o o o

"I'm so proud of him," Kurt said.

Blaine reached across the armrest and took his fiancé's hand. The flight attendant made a final check up the narrow aisle to ensure everyone had turned off their electronic devices before takeoff. They were on the last flight out of Columbus heading to D.C., and while they both had folders of work that could be done on the flight, they preferred to let it slide until they returned to the office in the morning. It was rare for them to have so many free hours to talk.

"I am too. I've always thought Hummel men were the most moral I've ever known."

"You're not sad at all? This means you're out of a job come January."

Blaine shrugged. "Not really. I have plenty of time to look between then and now, but I also thought I might take some time off first. You see, I have this incredible fiancé who is planning the most amazing wedding, and I think he's going to need some help getting everything done before March 15th."

Kurt's mouth formed a perfect O. "I'm sure he would appreciate someone to run his errands while he's on television reducing narrow-minded conservatives to sobs with his vicious rhetoric."

"I'm sure he would."

They were in a row to themselves, so Blaine pressed a quick kiss to Kurt's cheek. He hummed in contentment.

"But after the wedding and honeymoon," Kurt said, more seriously. "There will probably be Congressmen and Senators banging down your door."

Blaine pulled a face. "I don't think I respect any member of Congress enough to go work for them. I think it's time for me to get back to my LGBT activism roots. Working for your dad was an incredible opportunity, but not something I'd aspired to. I'd really like to get out there on the streets and in the rallies and inspire change at the grassroots level."

"You've already been offered a position," Kurt surmised.

Blaine laughed. "I have, yes. I start the first of April next year. I was going to tell you over a romantic dinner, and you were going to be so thrilled to have a pack mule before the wedding that you would reward me with a sex marathon."

"You can't talk about sex marathons in the same sentence as pack animals. It's disturbing."

Blaine laughed lightly and shook his head as the plane started its taxi down the runway. He yawned through the takeoff, trying to make his ears pop. Despite all the years he'd been flying back and forth, takeoffs and landings still bothered him. When the plane leveled out, he went to work in earnest getting his ears to pop while Kurt flipped through his copy of Sky Mall.

"It's strange, isn't it?" Kurt mused.

Blaine glanced at his fiancé questioningly, but when he thought about it for a moment, he thought he understood perfectly. If someone had told him ten years ago that he would be a lawyer working as the chief of staff to a United States Congressman, he would have replied, 'Maybe in a play.' But now when he considered his life, he wondered how anything else had ever felt right. The decisions he'd made in life had led him so far from the scared boy who tried to find himself in songs, and yet maybe not so far after all. He still had Kurt, and against all odds they'd grown into people who could still love one another deeply. He had picked some new paths, but others were indelible.

"It is strange," he answered, "these circuitous lives we lead."


End file.
